ice  SO 


TPdlonbetlanb 


University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


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Tljrougl)  tl|pi!derlai}d 
To  Alaska. 


BY 

REV.    WILLIAM  H.  MYERS, 
Pastor  Grace  Lutheran  Church,  Reading ',  Pa* 


READING,    PA., 

READING  TIMES  PRINT, 

1895 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR  ; 


At-  Leisure  Papers^ 
Ike  i$tk  Century 


and  7  here 
Across  the  Sea% 

Funeral  Reform,  Etc. 


REV     WM,    H,    iMYERS    LETTERS. 

"The  readers  of  £he  TIMES,  while  they 
will  be  pleased  tp  hear  of  the  safe  return  of 
our  esteemed  jbpwnsman,  Rev.  Wm.  H. 
Myers,  fr-Qm  his  jtrip  to  Alaska,  will  no 
doubt  be  sorry  to,  miss  a  continuation  of 
the  graphically-written  letters  of  travel 
which  he  has  contributed  tp  the  columns 
of  this  papef  fqr.  several  months  past. 
These  letters  have  called  out  many  com- 
plimentary expressions  from  among  a  large 
circle  of  admiring  readers,  and  the  general 
consensus  of  opinion  is  that  in  point  of 
close  observation,  fine  descriptive  power, 
felicity  of  expression,  the  apt  use  of  his- 
torical incidents  with  which  the  writer  in- 
terwove his  interesting  narrative,  these 
letters  possess  a  value  and  literary  attract- 
iveness that  entitles  them  to  more  than  the 
mere  passing  interest  that  attaches  to  a 
newspaper  publication.  They  should  be 
collected  and  printed  in  book -form,  as 
they  would  adorn  any  library." — Ed. 
Times, 


NOTE. 

The  foregoing  editorial  of  the  "Read- 
ing Times,"  together  with  the  numer- 
ous requests  of  friends,  have  induced 
me  to  present  my  Letters  i?i  this  form. 
1  hey  were  written  mostly  in  the  Palace- 
Sleeper  of  the  Overland-  Trains,  and,  but 
for  the  flattering  endorsement  of  their 
merit  by  one  so  competent  to  speak  it,  I 
would  plead  the  modesty  of  many  short- 
comings in  them. 

W.   H.   M. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

I    Anticipation  of  My  Trip  ....          9 
II    Viewing     Chicago     from     its 

Money-making    Standpoint .        15 

III  How    Minneapolis    Appeals   to 

the  Poetic  and  Artistic  Feeling      23 

IV  Minneapolis,    the   Flour  City  of 

the  Great  Northwest  .'..."  29 
V  Awaking  in  the  Prairie  Lands  of 

North  Dakota 37 

VI  Through  the  Wheat  Belt  and  the 

Cowboy  Land .  43 

VII  Climbing  the  Rocky  Mountains 

by  Stage 50 

VIII  Among  the  Indian  and  Wigwam 

of  the  Wild  West 63 

IX  In  the  Rising  Seaport  of  the 

Northwest 67 

X  Sailing  •  Up  Through  Puget 

Sound  on  the  Steamer  Queen  74 
XI  Down  in  the  Gold  Mines  bt  the 

Alaskan  Islands 81 

XII  An  Evening  with  the  Governor 

of  Alaska,  at  Sitka 89 

XIII  Anchoring  Among  the  Icebergs 

of  Glacier  Bay 98 

XIV  Sight    Seeing    in  the    Queenly 

Metropolis  of  Oregon  ....  108 
XV  Piloted  Through  Chinatown  at 

Night  by  a  Detective  .    ...      118 


PAGE 
XVI     Beholding  the  Wonders  of  the 

Yosemite  Valley  ....       .      131 
XVII     In  the  Prune  and  Olive  Farms  of 

Santa  Clara  Valley  .    .    ...      140 
XVIII     Looking  Through  the   Largest 

Telescope  in  the  World  ...      1 50 

XIX    Legend  of  the  Cypress  Trees  .    .      161 
XX    Sitting  Under  Orange  Tiees  and 

Eating  Fruit   ........      163 

XXI    A  Sunday  Spent  at  Salt  Lake 

with  the  Mormons    .    .    .    .    .      170 

XXII    Travelling  Through  the  Switzer- 
land of  America.  ......      185 

XXIII     Homes  of  the  Clift  Dwellers.      192 
<  XXIV    Two     Mountain      Views,     one 
Earthward,  the  other  Heaven- 
ward           194 

XXV    The  Garden  of  the  Gods    .    .    .      206 
XXVI     A  Study  of  the  Chinaman— Dan- 
ger of  Immigration  ....      208 
XXVII     Our  Country  East  and  West  of 

the  Mississippi 221 

XXVIII    Yellowstone    Park  —  In    Retro- 
spect.   .       . 

XXIX     Yosemite  Valley— In  Retrospect 
XXX     In  the  Mariposa  Grove   .... 
XXXI    Alaska — In  Retrospect  .... 
XXXII     My  Country— In  Retrospect  .    . 


229 
243 
254 
258 
272 


ANTICIPATION  OF  MY  TRIP. 
I. 

READING,  JULY  16,  1895. 
Once  more  I  take  in  hand  my  pilgrim 
Staff — I  start  on  a  journey  to  a  far-off 
land.  Alaska  !  It  beckons  me  with  boyish 
anticipation.  Life  anyhow  would  be  a 
journey  through  the  desert  without  the 
foretaste  of  anticipation.  We  hardly  are 
done  with  one  day,  we  already  span  the 
rainbow  over  another  to-morrow.  We 
may  not  have  realized  what  we  expected, 
but  we  brush  aside  the  disappointments 
by  a  hopeful  anticipation  and  say — "It 
will  be  better  on  the  rising  of  the  next 
sun."  Buoyant  youth  is  all  anticipation, 
and  experienced  age  culls  hope  from  the 
lowering  horizon  by  the  forward  step  of 
expectation.  I  think  the  sweetest  honey- 
•comb  of  life  is  anticipation,  for  realization 
is  a  honey-comb  too,  but  with  much  of 
the  honey  taken  out  of  it. 

THROUGH  PICTURESQUE  AMERICA. 

Well,   a   pleasure   trip   of    a   thousand 
smiles  through  paradisiaeJe  scenes  of  earthly 

(U-t 


io  Through  Wonderland 

grandeur  will  certainly  fill  any  young  heart 
with  the  intoxicating  wine  of  anticipation. 
I  will  share  of  my  pleasures  with  you,  and 
as  you  have  followed  my  former  wander- 
ings through  my  pen-portrayals,  with  ex- 
pressions of  delight,  I  may  do  well  to 
please  you  again.  I  am  not  traveling 
along  the  stream  of  time  to  find  the 
sources  of  history,  and  tell  you  the  story 
of  centuries  long  agone.  Here  in  our 
land  we  do  not  record  the  achievements  of 
man  that  inspired  the  pen  of  poet,  mor- 
alist and  historian  for  a  thousand  years. 
The  Old  World  has  its  moss-covered 
churches  and  dust-gathered  cathedrals;  its 
treasures  of  art  and  song;  its  scattered 
upheavings  of  religious  reformations  and 
national  conflicts — every  mountain,  lake 
and  river  lives  in  rythmical  lore,  and  cities 
stand  that  Caesar  saw.  My  pleasure-tour 
may  more  particularly  be  described — "A 
trip  through  Picturesque  America/'  Nor 
this  alone,  for  the  American  people  would 
seem  to  have  compressed  a  thousand 
years  into  a  single  century.  Their  cities 
have  been  built  almost  over  night,  and  the 
wheel  of  progress  never  revolved  with 
such  accelerating  speed  in  the  history  of 
the  world  as  now — we  are  railroading  it 


to  Alaska.  1 1 


through  life,  we  speed  along  with  the  flash 
of  electricity. 

The  delights  of  travel  are  among  the 
most  health-giving  experiences  of  our  ex- 
istence. To  those  who  have  eyes,  and 
cannot  see  things  with  them,  who  have 
the  artist  in  their  souls,  the  pictures  of 
travel  will  be  the  active  shifting  of  scenes 
that  educate,  elevate  and  inspire.  I  have 
often  heard  the  complaint  of  dull  compan- 
ions in  travel,  who  carry  their  brains  in 
their  stomachs,  who  have  contracted  all 
their  aesthetic  appreciation  to  the  level  of 
their  pocket-books,  who  have  only  three 
longings  of  the  day — breakfast,  dinner 
and  supper  ;  who  mete  out  only  one  intel- 
lectual inquiry  of  their  soul,  amid  the  most 
God-inspiring  enjoyments — "what  does  it 
cost?" 

No  less  than  600,000  tourists  will  cross 
the  Atlantic  this  summer.  And  yet,  when 
we  look  around  us,  we  find  so  many  well- 
to-do  people  who  never  travel.  It  is  a 
pity  that  any  one  should  have  the  means 
and  not  find  it  convenient  to  apply  some 
of  it  to  the  higher  enjoyments  of  life. 
There  is,  however,  a  compensation  in  all 
stations  of  society,  and  the  people  of  mod- 
erate means  do  more  traveling  than  the 


12  Through  Wonderland 

wealthy.  You  see,  a  man  who  has  a  mil- 
lion dollars  has  a  million  entanglements, 
He  has  business  investments,  and  one 
manufacturing  enterprise  after  the  other, 
binds  him  more  to  his  home  ;  and  having' 
shrewd  financial  qualities,  and  solid  money 
backing,  he  will  be  called  to  one  and 
another  station  of  responsibility,  until  like 
Tantalus  in  deep  water,  having  money, 
an  ocean  of  it,  and  a  desire  to  travel — he 
yet  can't  make  use  of  it.  Now,  life  is 
short,  and  at  the  close,  money  is  not  even 
good  enough  material  to  fill  up  the  grave 
with.  Wealth  owes  us  a  fair  living  if 
nothing  more,  but  many  do  not  get  more 
out  of  it  than  worry,  work  and  slavery. 

AMERICA,  THE  MIRACLE  OF  PROGRESS. 

A  trans-continental  tour  awakens  the 
sense  of  the  marvellous.  Many  countries? 
of  the  old  world  are  no  larger  than  one  of 
our  States,  and  you  soon  can  flit  from  the 
domain  of  one  nation  into  the  other.  But 
in  America  you  speed  over  3,000  miles 
from  ocean  to  ocean,  and  it  is  all  one  land 
— and  all  redeemed  from  the  desert  and 
wilderness  to  a  populous  country  in  a 
marvellously  short  period.  When  the 
Plymouth  colony  settled  on  the  Mass- 
achusetts coast,  all  west  of  them  was  a 


to  Alaska.  13 

waste.  Only  250  years  ago,  all  the  citizens 
of  America  could  boast  of  a  few  beasts  of 
burden,  only  a  few  cows  landed  in  1636  at 
the  cost  of  $150  a  piece,  and  oxen  at  $200 
a  pair,  and  a  quart  of  milk  could  be 
bought  for  a  penny,  and  four  eggs  at  the 
same  price.  Then  a  red  calf  could  be 
bought  cheaper  than  a  black  one,  on 
account  of  a  great  liability  to  be  mistaken 
for  a  deer,  and  killed  by  wolves.  Along 
the  James  River,  so  important  was  consid- 
ered the  raising  of  cattle  in  the  infant  col- 
ony, that  no  domestic  animals  were  allowed 
to  be  killed  on  penalty  of  death  to  the 
principal,  and  of  burning  of  the  hand  and 
cropping  of  the  ears  of  the  accessory,  and 
a  sound  whipping  of  twenty-four  hours 
for  the  concealer  of  a  knowledge  of  the 
facts.  In  1611  there  were  100  head  of 
cattle  grazing  along  the  James  River,  in 
1850  there  were  18,378,907  in  the  United 
States,  and  animals  slaughtered  valued  at 
$i  1 1,703, 142.  The  story  of  cattle-raising 
in  1895  can  be  read  on  the  ranches  of  the 
prairies,  and  in  the  slaughtering-stocks  of 
Chicago.  Emigration  from  the  east  began 
to  set  toward  the  so-called  inexhaustible 
west,  which  at  that  time  meant  central  or 
western  New  York,  now  it  lies  beyond  the 


14  Through  Wonderland 

Mississippi,  and  the  Rockies.  In  the 
Revolution,  less  than  3,000,000  people 
inhabited  this  land,  now  nigh  70,000,000 
claim  to  be  Americans.  When  our  fathers 
landed  on  these  shores,  they  found  no 
roads  or  carnages,  or  other  means  of 
moving  from  one  place  to  another.  How 
should  they  gather  the  fruits  of  harvests 
and  hold  communion  between  one  long 
distant  home  and  another  ?  The  peddler 
with  his  pack-horse  was  then  the  moving 
emporium  of  a  woman's  world  and  fancy. 
But  why  delay  the  story  of  roads — post 
roads — Macadam — national.  «In  1859  the 
old-time  stages  had  23,448,398  miles  of 
travel,  and  to  cross  to  the  Pacific  under 
the  lash  of  whip,  was  almost  a  life-journey. 
Now  we  have  railroad  and  steam,  and 
sweep  from  coast  to  coast  in  a  week. 
What  a  marvel  of  progress  is  America  ! 

So  I  fasten  up  my  tourist's  bag  and  strap 
down  .my  steamer-trunk  and  take  the  train 
for  the  glaciers  of  the  Alaskan  clime.  I 
am  well-equipped  for  heat  and  cold,  for 
land-rain  and  ocean-Storm.  With  the  se- 
curement  of  my  ticket  I  have  bespoken 
the  assurance  of  good  health,  and  so  until 
we  meet  again  we  wish  to  each  other — 
( i(»d 


VIEWING  CHICAGO  FROM  ITS 
MONEY-MAKING  STAND- 
POINT. 

IL 

CHICAGO,  JULY  12,  1895. 
Gently,  like  an  angel's  flight,  the  train 
glided  out  from  the  Philadelphia  Broad 
street  station.  It  was  8.50  o'clock  of  the 
evening,  and  the  luxuriant  sleeper  Para- 
gon was  a*- picture  of  beauty  under  the 
.glow  of  the  over-hanging  gas-jets.  Not 
a  care-worn  face  did  I  see  in  it,  but  antici- 
pation of  something  pleasant  seemed  to  be 
written  upon  every  countenance.  One 
pretty  maiden  particularly,  had  eight  hand- 
somely dressed  courtiers  to  bid  her  adieu, 
and  I  noticed  that  a  sweet  satisfaction  hov- 
ered around  her  unconscious  smiles  when 
far  on  her  journey.  She  sat  alone  and 
mused,  forecasting  the  future,  and  un- 
clouded hope  sat  upon  her  brow.  Do  not 
mar  that  delusion — it  is  the  rightful  wealth 
of  youth. 


1 6  Through  Wonderland 


ASLEEP  ON  WHEELS. 

Very  soon  the  swarthy  porter  touched 
the  springs  of  the  veneered  mahogany  ceil- 
ing, and  in  separate  parts  it  fell  down, 
transforming  the  car  into  a  sleeping  em- 
porium. One  after  another,  the  travelers 
stole  behind  the  drawn  curtains,  and  before 
long,  I  sat  alone  amid  a  scene  of  silence. 
I  thought  that  a  car-full  is  like  a  city-full 
of  people— when  night  comes,  sleep  silences 
the  animated  streets,  and  a  hundred  thou- 
sand souls,  and  as  many  more,  are  stowed 
away  behind  barred  doors.  Sleep  is  the 
magic  power  that  tames  and  quiets-  the 
restless  lion  of  New  York  and  London-life. 
By  day  he  goes  about  roaring — at  night, 
where  is  he  ?  My  bed  is  made — I  also  go 
to  rest.  I  awake — 1  have  had  a  dream.  I 
walked  in  a  garden  of  shooting  geysers, 
and  their  hot  spray  spread  aloft  like  bou- 
quets of  variegated  flowers ;  I  sailed  amid 
icebergs,  and  my  boat  was  frozen  into 
eccentric  shapes  of  ice-colored  animals, 
plants  and  images,  projecting  from  the 
sides  in  carved  relief.  Yellowstone-Park 
and  glacier-laden  Alaska  must  have 
warmed  my  brain  before  sleep.  I  thought 
of  the  beautiful  dream  of  the  poet  Tasso 
when  traveling  in  Italy.  In  a  night- vision 


to  Alaska.  17 


he  sailed  by  boat  to  a  little  island,  and  the 
natives  brought  him  birds  of  the  most  ex- 
traordinary plumage,  and  he  arranged 
them  along  the  sides,  so  that  their  long 
fan-tails  of  rainbow-hues  reached  over  the 
water,  and  his  whole  craft  sparkled  in  the 
sun  like  a  setting  of  delicately-tinted  gems. 
How  delighted  !  When  he  awoke  he  said 
— " these  birds  presage  my  new  poems 
which  I  will  send  to  my  friends  at  home. ' ' 
I  modestly  think  like  Tasso,  that  my 
dream  of  Wonderland  presaged  the  letters 
I  will  write  to  my  friends  at  home.  They 
scarcely  will  be  poetical  gems  of  a  Tasso 
style,  but  they  may  be  gems  worth  the 
setting  in  some  kind  of  current  type. 

Bishop  Berkeley  has  said — "Westward 
the  course  of  empire  takes  its  way."  I 
follow  this  star  of  progress  in  my  westward 
flight.  But  here  I  awake  in  Pittsburg, 
and  a  pilgrim  by  my  side  says — "we  will 
have  to  turn  our  watches  back  one  hour. ' ' 
1  did  so  as  directed,  and  when  I  reach  the 
Pacific  coast  I  will  have  turned  the  hour 
of  the  dial  back  three  hours.  Now,  that 
hardly  would  seem  to  be-progress — but  a 
retrogression.  When  you  breakfast  at  8 
o'clock  in  the  east  I  will  breakfast  at  5 
o'clock,  according  to  your  time.  Well, 


1 8  Through   Wonderland 

this  however,  is  only  an  apparent  victory 
of  the  race  between  steam  and  the  Creator* 
It  is  not  the  time-piece  in  our  pocket  that 
determines  the  universal  hour  of  day  or 
night — the  sun  of  the  heavens  does.  The 
sun  up  there,  and  God  up  higher,  rule 
about  everything.  We  must  accommo- 
date ourselves  to  the  things  ordained  from 
above;  when  we  gauge  ourselves  accord- 
ing to  the  limitations  of  man's  narrow  en- 
vironments, we  soon  will  have  come  to 
the  end,  we  every  day  must  find  a  new  be- 
ginning. 

IN  THE  STREETS  OF  CHICAGO. 

When  you  approach  Chicago  by  train 
you  are  in  it  a  long  time  before  you  get 
there.  Anyhow  what  is  this  Chicago  ? 
A  monstrous  miracle  on  earth.  In  1829 
it  had  no  existence;  in  1840  it  had  447  in- 
habitants: in  1845  it  had  12,088;  in  j86o 
it  had  109,263,  and  in  1895  it  has  a  little 
less  than  2,000,000  souls  !  Now,  taking 
the  city  in  a  lump,  and  analyzing  its  peo- 
ple, you  will  have  to  decide  that  they  arc 
not  of  a  Boston-caste — they  lack  the  cul- 
ture and  refinement  that  comes  of  genera- 
tions of  moulding.  Here  all  is  money, 
and  it  is  a  bee-hive  for  that.  When  these 
fat  capitalists  have  reared  the  third  gcner- 


to  Alaska.  19 


ation  of  children,  and  inculcated  the  love 
of  the  arts,  refinement  and  higher  educa- 
tion, then  this  wonder-city  will  have 
donned  the  garb  of  more  classic  beauty  in 
its  social  and  business  intercourse.  I  feel 
this  difference  in  the  whole  atmosphere 
that  pervades  Chicago — and  I  feel  that  I 
am  safe  to  venture  the  truthfulness  of  my 
impressions. 

Alas!  to  what  heights  it  aspires  in  its 
sky-scraping  buildings— how  corpulent 
with  vulgar  stuffing  it  seems — there  is 
such  a  cannibal-zest  in  its  appetite  for 
money.  Other  great  cities  have  existed 
upon  the  earth,  and  poets  have  sung  of 
them — but  no  poet  can  find  inspiration  in 
this  seething  furnace  of  activity — Chicago 
now  is  big,  rather  than  graceful;  it  is  rich, 
rather  than  learned — its  poet  may  sing 
some  day. 

IN   THE   SLAUGHTER   HOUSES. 

I  have  just  come  from  the  stock-yards, 
and  as  this  is  one  of  the  many  of  Chi- 
cago's greatest  things  on  earth,  I  may 
have  fallen  into  this  caustic  way  of  moral- 
izing. From  the  poet  Tasso  to  hog-stick- 
ing, is  a  descending  scale,  and  my  aesthetic 
feelings  had  to  give  away  to  the  more 
materialistic.  So  here  I  am  in  a  mile 


2o  Through   Wonderland 


square  of  yards  and  buildings  devoted  to 
the  slaughter  of  cattle,  sheep  and  hogs. 
Lowing — bleating — grunting — how  I  used 
to  like  to  hear  those  sounds  on  the  quiet 
farm;  but  here  it  is  the  plaintive  call  of 
helpless  animals,  that  grace  so  often  the 
undulating  landscape — and  they  seem  to 
call  to  be  saved  from  the  doom  which  right 
here  gathers  much  pathos  to  itself. 

But  we  must  see  this  Armour-Swift- igth 
century  way  of  slaughtering  and  pulver- 
izing hogs.  Really  there  is  science  about 
it,  and  to  see  it,  you  walk  in  pools  of 
blood.  It  is  a  little  like  a  threshing 
machine,  into  one  end  of  which  you  stick 
the  wheat,  and  it  comes  out  at  the  other 
all  bagged  for  the  market.  A  Vulcan  of 
a  man,  all  gory  with  blood,  dispatches  the 
pigs  as  fast  as  they  glide  manacled  before 
him  ;  the  overhead  railroad  catches  them 
up  from  the  scalding  trough,  and  they  roll 
along,  and  as  they  go  their  zig-zag  way, 
men  elevated  on  benches  do  each  their 
part, — scraping,  cutting  the  head,  disem- 
bowelling— and  in  five  minutes  one  pig  has 
railroaded  to  the  cooling  room,  and  in  one 
hour  four  hundred  and  fifty  are  suspended 
there,  and  in  one  year  four  hundred  thou- 
sand go  that  way  to  the  lower  rooms  to  be 


id  Alaska.  2f 


converted  into  ham,  sausage,  lard,  fertilizer, 
etc., — and,  presto  change  !  where  are* 
they  ?  So  it  mattefs  not,  whether  Chicago 
kills  beef,  plays  base-ball  or  builds  a 
world's  fair,  it  does  all  on  the  biggest 
scale.  Nelson  Morris  whittles  a  stick  all 
day  long  as  he  goes  from  place  to  place 
through  his  packing  houses.  Some  few 
years  ago  he  blackened  boots,  and  now  he 
has  the  largest  ready  capital  of  any  mil-' 
lionaire  in  the  city.  Think  of  it-^*in  1538 
Ferdinand  de  Soto  brought  the  first  swine 
from  Cuba  to  Florida  in  America.  Iri 
1627  they  ran  wild  in  Virginia,  and  the" 
Indians  killed  them  for  game.  Now  behold! 
the  immense  industry  they  have  created  iri 
this  city  alone.  I  admit  that  Chicago  is 
great — its  grain  warehouses  that  ship 
4,000,000  bushels  a  day,  and  its  stock- 
yards that  send  out  pork  and  beef  to  the 
world,  are  but  the  indication  of  its  bigness- 
in  every  way.  It  is  business  to  see  over 
one  hundred  vehicles  back  to  the  curb  of 
a  single  market-house;  it  is  business  to  see1 
the  thoroughfares  teeming  with  thousands 
of  people  and  resounding  with  a  bedlam 
of  noises;  it  is  business  to  see  the  little 
store-man  measure  and  weigh  his  sales 
with  alacrity — but  dust  and  sweat  and 


§2  Through  Wonderland 

sooty  quarters,  such  as  the  majority  of 
people  have  in  a  large  city,  would  not 
tempt  me,  even  for  more  than  a  compe- 
tency. The  man  of  a  little  town,  who  has 
a  home,  worth  three  or  five  thousand 
dollars,  is  somebody — in  a  large  city  he 
is  nobody.  Only  men  of  brains*  and  of  a 
kind,  and  millionaires,  ride  on  the  popular 
wave  of  a  city- full. 


HOW  MINNEAPOLIS  APPEALS  TO 

THE  POETIC   AND  ARTISTIC 

FEELING, 

lit 

MINNEAPOLIS,  JULY  15,  18*95. 

My  first  impressions  of  this  flour-city  of 
the  northwest  was  a  revelry  of  sentiment. 
Its  artistic  and  poetic  beauty  set  aside  all 
statistical  and  material  study,  and  for  the 
first  day  I  lived  in  it  as  in  a  dream  of  love. 
Robed  in  gorgeous  summer  attire,  it  is  a 
city  fair  to  look  upon.  It  is  the  Edin- 
burgh of  America.  There  is  a  queenly 
grace  that  pervades  its  realm  of  business, 
and  its  wide  paved  roadways  and  broad 
stone  sidewalks,  overshadowed  by  eight 
and  ten  story  buildings,  carry  on  their 
activities  with  an  air  of  refinement.  With 
me  it  was  love  at  first  sight,  and  I  am 
ready  to  sing  its  praises. 

Scarcely  settled  in  the  West  Hotel, 
which  is  one  of  the  objects  of  pride  to  the 
Minneapolitans,  I  was  made  to  taste  one 
of  those  surprises  of  western  hospitality 
which  have  come  to  be  so  far-famed.  A 


24  Through  Wonderland 

Staunch  Lutheran,  who  chanced  to  know 
of  my  pilgrimage,  came  equipped  with 
carnage  and  royal  persuasion,  and  soori 
lodged  me  within  his  own  brown-stone 
palace.  Mr.  J.  A.  Bohn  and  his  goodly 
wife  are  princely  host  and  hostess,  and 
their  untiring  attention  to  one  whom  they 
had  never  met  was  a  gracious  flattery  to 
the  meagre  reputation  that  had  made  him 
known  to  theiru 

AN  EVENING  DRIVE  IN  FAlRY  LAND. 

You  never  will  have  discovered  Minne^ 
apolis  until  you  drive  over  its  boulevards 
by  night.  We  are  off  to  the  lakes,  which 
like  a  necklace  of  gems  encircle  the  bosom 
'of  the  city.  Our  wheels  roll  over  one  of 
the  finest  driveways  of  America; — it  will  be 
a  road  thirty  miles  long  when  completed* 
On  either  side  of  the  broad  track  are  con* 
tinuous  blocks  of  grass,  shaded  by  treesj 
and  a  walk  along  the  edge  of  it.  Now  it 
is  8  o'clock  of  the  evening  and  the  sun  is 
just  going  down.  The  air  is  balmy,  and 
the  pleasure-seekers  afe  gliding  by  iri 
streams  of  vehicles.  Whither  this  inter- 
mingling mass  of  humanity  ?  Mere  is  a 
paradise  of  the  bicycler- — there  afe  i?,ooo 
of  them  in  Minneapolis,  and  as  many 
Women  are  out  as  men  to-night,  spinning 


to  Alaska.  25 


along.  On  horseback,  in  carriages,  on 
wheels,  by  foot — they  are  all  bound  for 
Lake  Harriet.  We  have  now  passed  Lake 
of  the  Isles  and  Cedar,  and  we  drive  along 
Calhoun.  Its  road-edge  is  a  continuous 
fence  of  willows,  trimmed  down  to  a  chain 
of  arched  fans  with  openings  between,  to 
view  the  lake.  Sails  are  sporting  to  the 
winds  far  out,  and  swimmers  bound  from 
bended  boards  in  arched  gracefulness. 
These  lakes,  encircled  by  the  boulevards, 
and  winding  under  thousands  of  acres  of 
woodland,  are  only  a  part  of  the  area 
comprising  the  magnificent  natural  park 
of  the  city.  All  Minneapolis  covers  more 
ground  than  London. 

VANITY   FAIR    AT    HARRIET. 

I  do  not  wonder  now,  that  the  city  is 
out  to  Lake  Harriet.  From  a  distance 
you  hear  through  the  groves  the  strains 
of  music  and  the  deep  undertone  of 
humanity.  Now  you  turn  the  curve  as 
the  electric  glare  directs  you,  and  a  scene 
of  magnificent  beauty  breaks  upon  your 
view.  Lake  Harriet  !  Down  there  is  the 
pavilion,  built  into  the  waters,  and  over 
and  around  it,  and  out  along  the  bend  of 
the  lake,  electric  lights  of  varied  colors 
cast  an  elongated  sheen — red,  white,  blue 


26  Th)  ough   Wonderland 

and  gold,  over  the  water.  As  we  approach , 
vehicles  many,  are  hitched  to  poles,  and 
vehicles  more,  battle  for  passing!  Men  and 
women,  beaus  and  maidens,  walk,  chat, 
laugh,  in  and  out,  up  and  down — and 
everywhere  the  bicycle.  Her  Majesty's- 
ship  of  immaculate  white,  with  masts  and 
flags  aloft  in  the  blue  sky,  is  moored  to 
the  pavilion,  and  is  a  veritable  stage,  look- 
ing upon  an  amphitheatre  of  seats  for 
5,000  spectators.  The  New  York  Opera 
company  is  performing  "Pinafore"  to- 
night—and the  attractions  change  every 
week.  Intermissions  are  announced  on 
flash-lighted  canvas,  and  the  refreshment 
tables  are  filled.  But  this  is  not  a  motley 
crowd  of  the  noisy  sort.  Only  soft  drinks 
are  served,  for  the  patrol-limit  regula- 
tion restricts  the  saloons  entirely  to  the 
business  portion  of  the  city.  Over  two 
hundred  boats,  white  without,  are  inviting 
patronage.  How  pretty  they  look  as  they 
glide  over  the  blue  surface  around  the 
Pinafore  ship  !  Over  yonder  is  the  "Raz- 
zle  Dazzle,''  draped  with  the  Oriental 
splendor  of  tinsel — round  and  round  it 
goes  with  hilarious  enjoyment.  Ponies 
and  urchin-riders  exercise  on  another 
track.  In  and  out  shoot  the  electric  cars, 


to  Alaska.  27 


and  crowds  go  and  crowds  come  by  a 
safety  system  of  elevated  exits — all  this 
to  view,  frofn  a  little  distance,  is  a  vision 
of  Fairy  Land.  Lake  Harriet  is  the  re- 
sort of  the  refined  masses,  and  Lake  Min- 
netonka,  with  its  mammoth  hotels,  is  the 
Elberon  of  the  aristocracy. 

AT  LONGFELLOW'S  MINNEHAHA. 
If  you  Jiave  read  Hiawatha,  you  will 
want  to  see,  above  all,  the  falls  of  Laugh- 
ing Water.  Come  not  with  me,  if  you 
have  not  sentiment — I  mean  to  read 
4 'Hiawatha's  Wooing"  in  time-keeping 
to  the  music  of  that  overflow,  and  I 
would  have  a  willing  ear.  Now  alight 
• — over  yonder — down  this  way — there  ! 
there  !  it  is.  Almost,  I  imagine  to  have 
come  to  the  sacred  glen  of  the  Dacotahs 
— almost,  like  a  lover's  venture,  do  I 
recount  my  pilgrimage  here — 

"  With  the  moccasins  of  magic, 
At  each  stride  a  mile  he  measured; 
Yet  the  way  seemed  long  before  him 
And  his  heart  outrun  his  iootsteps; 
And  he  journeyed  without  resting, 
Till  he  heard  the  cataract's  laughter, 
Heard  the  Falls  of  Minnehaha 
Calling  to  him  through  the  silence. 
"  Pleasant  is  the  sound  !"  he  murmured, 

"Pleasant  is  the  voice  that  calls  me." 

Now,  see,  right  there,  Hiawatha    came 
to  buy  his  arrows.      Alas  !  a  lover's  secret; 


28  Through   Wonderland 


perhaps  he  came  to  see  some  dreamy  eyes. 
Bend!  we  dip,  and  take  of  the  waters  of 
Minnehaha.  How  sweet  the  drfnk  !  To 
the  good  luck  of  Hiawatha's  wooing  we 
drink.  Laughing,  yet — that  falling  cata- 
ract, in  the  basin-washed  gulf  below — it 
seems  to  intone  the  words  of  that  Indian 
lover — 

"Yes,  if  Minnehaha  wishes; 
lyet  your  heart  speak,  Minnehaha  !" 
And  the  lovely  L,ai«ghing  Water 
Seemed  more  lovely  as  she  stood  ttoere 
Neither  willing  nor  reluctant 
As  she  went  to  Hiawatha,. 
Softly  took  the  seat  beside  him, 
Whilst  she  said,  and  blushed  to  say  itr 

"'I  will  follow  you,  my  husband." 


MINNEAPOLIS,  THE    FLOUR  CITY 
OF  THE  GREAT  NORTHWEST. 

IV. 

BISMARCK,  N.  D.,  JULY  16,  '95. 

St.  Paul  and  Minneapolis  are  styled  the 
twin-cities  of  the  Northwest.  They  are 
far  apart  in  spirit,  and  an  acrimonious 
jealousy  divides  them.  It  is  playfully  in- 
timated that  it  is  not  safe  for  a  preacher 
in  Minneapolis  to  take  his  text  from  St. 
Paul.  It  is  a  figure  of  speech  to  indicate 
the  intensity  of  rivalry.  A  government 
enumerator  had  to  be  called  upon  to  take 
the  census  in  1890  ;  and  now  the  indica 
tions  are  that  Minneapolis  is  50,000  ahead, 
having  about  200,000  inhabitants.  But 
in  less  than  a  decade  the  commercial  city 
and  the  manufacturing  city  will  have  en- 
tirely built  up  the  fifteen  miles  between 
them;  they  will  join  hands  in  peace,  and 
be  baptized  under  the  name  of — Minne- 
paulus.  Then  there  will  be  one  straight 
avenue  through  them  both  of  thirty  miles 
length  What  a  city! 


3O  Through   Wonderland 

.  When  you  have  seen  the  palatial  resi- 
dences along  the  paved  streets — so  many 
hundreds  of  them  costing  from  $50,000 
to  $500,000  each,  you  naturally  will  want 
to  know  where  the  money  came  from  to 
build  them.  If  an  architect  wants  to 
find  lofty,  unique  and  even  daring  styles 
of  stone-architecture,  he  need  only  come 
to  Minneapolis.  If  the  florist  would  know 
how  to  lay  out  lawns  and  decorate  them 
with  pleasing  and  original  designs,  he 
need  to  come  here.  Its  175  churches  are 
imposing  ;  its  high-schools  and  State  uni 
versity  are  marvels;  its  West  hotel  cost 
$1,500,000  ;  its  court  house  $3,000,000  ; 
and  the  many  other  public  structures,  in- 
spired by  the  social,  commercial  or  politi- 
cal enterprise  are  of  equal  pretensions.  If 
you  would  study  city  sewerage,  street 
paving,  benevolent,  school  and  patrol 
systems,  you  will  find  the  highest  type  of 
attainment  here.  But  I  do  not  wish  to 
generalize  in  this  way. 

A    VISIT   TO    THE    SAW-MILLS. 

Geographically  Minneapolis  is  the  nat- 
ural headquarters  for  Northwestern  lum 
ber    interests  ;     it     is    situated     on    the 
southern  edge  of  the  vast  pineries  and  has 
the  magnificent  water-power  of  St   An- 


to  Alaska.  31 


thony  Falls.  A  ride  up  the  grand  Miss- 
issippi took  me  along  miles  of  lumber 
villages,  and  at  last  brought  me  to  the 
model  saw-mill  of  C.  A.  Smith  &  Co.  I 
had  a  letter  of  introduction — he  and  part- 
ner Johnson  are  Lutherans. 

Now  my  conception  of  a  saw-mill  never 
rose  much  above  the  crude  water-wheel 
that  disported  its  prowess  in  the  back- 
wood  stream,  and  by  its  sweet  repose  of 
surroundings  afforded  a  splendid  study  for 
the  painter.  But  here  all  artistic  inspira- 
tion is  annihilated,  and  you  wonder  at  the 
materialistic  progress  of  the  times.  Think 
of  a  saw-mill  that  cuts  up  500,000  feet  of 
lumber  in  twenty  four  hours  !  Down  the 
Mississippi  river  the  logs  come  floating 
from  the  northern  forests  of  Minnesota, 
coaxed  into  this  great  water- course 
through  inland  streams  ;  and  labeled,  are 
sent  down  for  hundreds  of  miles,  like 
herds  of  cattle,  to  the  special  owner. 

Now  right  here  at  this  point  of  the  mill 
you  see  single  logs  floated  to  a  pronged 
chain,  revolving  up  an  incline,  carrying 
Mr.  Timber  along  through  a  trough,  like 
the  hogs  are  lifted  at  Armour's,  ready  to 
be  slaughtered.  Above,  you  see  a  sort  of 
sleight-of-hand  performance  with  that  log. 


3  2  Through   Wonderland 


The  eye  follows  quickly  every  process. 
Amid  chain-work  and  tracks,  shooting 
length-wise  and  side-wise,  that  log  comes 
within  reach  of  an  iron  arm  called  the 
1  'nigger"  which  bobs  out  of  the  floor,  and 
by  an  acrobatic  feat,  throws  it  over  into 
the  arms  of  a  truck  that  quickly  flies  past 
a  saw.  Behold  !  one  side  is  shaved  off. 
Back  and  forward  the  truck  shoots  again, 
with  the  log  reversed  as  quickly  as  the 
baker  turns  the  pretzel,  and  the  other 
side  is  sliced  off— the  saw  going  two  miles 
in  a  minute.  Tossed  like  a  stick  to 
another  chain-truck,  the  log  instantly  is 
one  of  six  to  shoot  through  a  family  of 
saws,  and  on  the  other  side  falls  apart  a 
load  ol  boards.  They  have  no  time  to 
inspect  themselves,  but  shoot  through  the 
plane,  land  on  tooth-chains  beyond.  A 
switchman,  in  a  box  above,  guides  them 
in  the  opposite  direction  into  an  elongated 
shed,  where  they  drop  according  to 
length,  into  bins  below,  and  so  are  sorted 
by  their  own  will,  loaded,  car-tracked  out, 
and  stacked  on  the  80  acres  of  lumber- 
storage.  What  magic  !  Amid  the  whirl 
of  machinery  and  belts,  I  am  guided 
down  to  the  shingle  apartment.  Waste 
logs  drop  within  reach  of  experts,  who  by 


to  Alaska.  33 


several  turns  have  a  bundle  of  these  roof- 
ing slats  cut  and  packed,  made  out  of  ap- 
parently worthless  wood.  Firewood  slides 
this  way,  and  falls  into  ready  wagons,  and 
saw-dust  is  carried  by  a  series  of  chains 
that  way,  and  lands  below  by  the  boilers. 
No  waste !  The  saw-dust  feeds  eight 
boilers,  and  to  look  within,  you  see  fire- 
flakes  fly  like  a  million  fire-bugs,  generat- 
ing the  i,ooo-horse  power  of  the  engine 
which  drives  the  immense  mill.  After  in- 
specting the  building  where  the  Compo- 
board  is  made,  which  is  a  wonderful  pro- 
cess to  displace  lathing  and  plastering  of 
walls  in  houses,  by  having  this  composi- 
tion surface  of  3x9  feet  nailed  on,  ready  to 
paper,  I  left  in  amazement  at  the  mechani- 
cal genius  of  the  age.  A  legerdemain 
performance  was  a  wonder  to  me  as  a  boy 
— but  all  this  is  more  than  the  mysteries 
of  a  Hermann  or  a  Keller.  Think  of  an 
annual  lumber  product  of  300,000,000 
feet,  and  how  much  of  this  goes,  not  only 
into  flooring  and  roofing  of  buildings — but 
is  converted  right  here,  by  other  mills, 
into  carved  furniture,  that  graces  the 
palaces  of  the  wealthy  and  of  royalty. 


34  Through  Wonderland 

IN    THE    FLOUR    MILLS. 

In  an  opposite  direction  I  found  the 
flour  milling  district.  Minneapolis  has 
the  largest  flour  mill  of  the  world,  and 
Mill  A.,  of  Mr.  Pillsbury,  is  the  eighth 
wonder  of  the  world.  In  my  own  native 
town  I  daily  saw  little  stacks  of  bags  bear- 
ing the  label  of  this  make.  But  the  old 
flour-mill  by  the  dam,  where  we  went 
a-fishing,  was  our  ideal.  Alas  !  what  a 
disenchantment  of  great  things  when  you 
come  to  see  a  western  mill,  run  by  water, 
steam  and  electric  power.  Imagine — it 
requires  40,000,000  bushels  of  wheat  a 
year  to  satisfy  the  rapacious  appetite  of 
the  thirty  and  more  feeders  of  this  city. 
The  five  Pillsbury-Washburn  flour  mills 
alone  turn  out  in  one  day  22,500  barrels, 
and  it  takes  400  cars,  or  20  trains  01  20 
cars  each,  every  day  to  take  the  wheat 
into,  and  the  flour  and  offal,  out  of  these 
mills.  If  all  the  cars  used  daily  by  the 
grinding  concerns  combined,  were  put  in*a 
row,  it  would  make  a  train  ten  miles  long. 
I  would  like  to  give  a  detailed  description 
of  the  machinery  and  activity  of  Mill  A — 
but  it  must  suffice  to  say,  that  the  225 
crushers  and  grinders  ;  the  18  pair  of 
stones  ;  the  tiers  of  wagon-box  shakers  : 


to  Alaska.  35 


the  cone-like  separators  of  oats  and  cockle 
from  wheat  ;  the  various  feeders  and 
sprinklers  ;  the  peculiar  flour  coolers  pre- 
vious to  packing  ;  and  all  the  whirl  of 
belting,  from  five  feet  wide  to  a  little  inch, 
going  round  and  round,  six  stories  high  — 
is  another  miracle  of  mechanical  science. 
Alas  !  what  a  process,  until  we  have  flour 
according  to  the  Pillsbury  notion.  It 
goes  through  all  kinds  of  crushing,  grind- 
ing, sifting,  cutting,  refining,  and  rises 
and  falls  twelve  times  up  and  down  six 
stories,  through  tube-lifts,  before  it  is  fit 
' *  staff  of  life  "  for  you  and  me.  Then, 
to  see  the  packing  into  barrels,  and  the 
twirling  into  cars— it  takes  more  agility 
than  a  Berks  County  farmer  manifests  at 
his  bins,  to  load  9,500  barrels  every  day 
out  of  one  mill. 

MEETING  A  FRIEND  AT   SOLDIERS'   HOME. 

By  Minnehaha  Falls  nestles  the  soldiers' 
home  of  the  State  of  Minnesota.  I 
'climbed  up  the  ravine  to  the  hill,  from 
which  look  seven  fine  buildings  over  the 
Mississippi  river,  the  ' 'Father  of  Waters," 
on  one  side,  and  Minnehaha  creek,  the 
"  Laughing  Waters,"  on  the  other.  The 
colors  of  the  stars  and  stripes  were  dis- 
played everywhere — even  the  ice-coolers 


36  Through   Wonderland 


and  flower-pots  were  painted  in  red,  white 
and  blue.  In  one  home  thl?  orders  were 
posted — "  the  bugler  will  sound  the  calls 
as  follows  :  Sick  call,  8  a.-m.;  tattoo,  8.50 
p.  m.;  taps,  9.00  p.  m.;  Sunday,  inspec- 
tion, 8.30  a.  m  — ." 

In  the  chapel,  the  memorial  over  the  re- 
ligious altar  read  : 

"Minnesota  is  proud  to  honor 
The  veteran  soldiers  of  the  Union. 
Their  cause  was  sacred. 
Their  sacrifice  was  sublime." 

Among  the  315  boys  in  blue,  I  looked 
for  one  face  with  searching  interest.  Major 
George  W.  Grant,  former  postmaster  of 
our  city,  and  a  member  of  my  church,  is 
quartermaster  here  I  missed  him,  but 
he  called  upon  me  in  the  city.  I  bore 
him  the  greetings  of  his  many  Eastern 
friends,  and  I  herewith  return  his  kindly 
wishes.  He  is  as  seriously  courteous  as 
ever,  of  soldierly  bearing — is  well  and 
happy.  I  preached  in  Minneapolis,  had  a 
good  all-round  Western  hand-shake,  and 
I  close  this  letter,  far  away  on  train,  with 
the  sweet  remembrance  of  the  kind  hearts 
I  met  there. 


i 

AWAKING  IN  THE  PRAIRIE  LANDS 
OF  NORTH  DAKOTAH. 


V. 


MONTANA  LINE,  JULY  16,  1895. 
I  turn  in  my  sleep — I  awake.  I  find 
that  I  have  on  me  a  white  sheet,  a  soft 
coverlet,  and  a  double  red  blanket — it  is 
deliciously  cool.  I  look  above  me,  and  I 
see  myself  reflected  in  a  mahogany  polished 
ceiling,  covered  over  like  an  Esquimaux. 
I  struggle  out  of  the  confusion  of  thought, 
and  I  soon  discover  that  I  have  slept  in  a 
berth  of  the  Northern  Pacific — rolling  over 
rails  toward  the  Yellowstone  Park.  I 
pull  the  shades  up  the  full  height  of  the 
windows — and  behold  !  I  see,  for  the  first 
time,  the  prairies.  I  rehearse  the  words 
of  Whittier  as  I  lie  there — 

"We  cross  the  prairies  as  of  old 

The  pilgrims  crossed  the  sea, 
To  make  the  West  as  they  the  Kast, 

The  homestead  of  the  free. 
We  go  to  plant  her  common  schools 

On  distant  prairie  swells, 
And  give  the  Sabbaths  of  the  wild 

The  music  of  her  bells. 


38  Through  Wonderland 

How  true  all  this  sentiment  !  Listen  ! 
The  wind  whistles  as  through  the  rigging 
of  a  ship,  and  the  far- stretch  ing  landscape 
looks  like  the  desert  sea.  "Homesteads 
of  the  free, ' '  are  here  and  there  and  yonder, 
some  of  mud- plastered  sides  and  sand* 
strewn  roofs,  with  a  chimney  smoking  and 
curling  as  beautifully  as  from  castle-hearth, 
No  fences  or  walls  between  neighbors 
miles  apart — all  is  free  ;  only  hillocks  of 
velvety  dress  break  the  outline  here  and 
there,  and  clusters  of  trees  relieve  the  span 
of  monotonous  perspective.  Now  I  fly 
past  the  prairie  village — a  few  scattered 
frame  houses,  no  streets,  a  store  ;  and 
this  early  morning,  scores  of  wagons  with 
two  horses  tied  there,  that  came  miles  over 
the  trackless  desert  to  lay  in  the  weekly 
supply- — perchance  to  collect  the  letters 
from  the  old  home  in  the  East.  Now 
there,  on  the  rise,  stands  quite  alone,  the 
church,  so  unpretentious.  But  to  the 
children  of  God,  who  track  the  direction 
of  the  Sabbath  prairie-bell,  those  meagre 
walls  sound  just  as  sweet  as  cathedral 
arch,  the  music  of  "Nearer  My  God  to 
Thee."  And  sure  as  the  Quaker  poet's 
prophesy  •"  we  go  to  plant  her  common 
schools  on  distant  prairie  swells,"  there 


To  Alaska.  39 


the  little  nursery  of  mental  unfolding 
stands.  But  looking  about — -where  are 
the  homes  of  the  children  ?  Ah!  out  here 
those  who  would  learn  go  for  it  any  dis- 
tance, and  those  who  would  worship  God 
need  not  the  paved  walks,  the  speed  of 
car  and  the  altar  by  the  door — -they  love 
church,  to  seek  it  twenty  and  fifty  miles 
away. 

Already  the  flocks  are  seen  in  the  blue 
grass — nothing  but  grass.  A  thousand 
sheep,  in  a  packed  flock,  I  have  passed  just 
now,  a  fleecy  cloud  fallen  down  from  the 
heavens  on  the  early  wet  grass.  The 
shepherd  on  horseback,  his  dog  by  his 
side,  and  a  few  cows  to  furnish  him  milk 
in  his  wanderings  from  home.  Just  see  ! 
what  airy  freedom  that  maiden  displays  on 
horseback,  as  the  cars  steam  by.  Most 
likely  she  is  conscious  of  the  fact,  that  an 
early-rising  traveller  is  peeping  out  by  the 
flying  sleeper  to  admire  her  expertness. 
Astride  she  sits,  with  both  stirrups  well 
mounted,  hatless,  and  hair  streaming, 
calico-frock,  short  over  bare  feet — and 
coyly  waving  back,  she  guides  her  steed, 
in  leaping  recklessness,  over  hidden  gul- 
lies and  protruding  knolls,  on  toward 
yonder  herd  of  cattle.  Thou  child  of 


40  Through   Wonderland 

freedom  on  desert  plain — how  pretty  thou 
does  seem,  with  the  rising  sun  to  illumi- 
nate the  innocent  gracefulness,  disporting 
on  horseback  against  the  winds  ! 

But  I  must  up — I  have  done  with  sleep. 
I  press  the  electric  button  under  the  side 
panel  mirror,  and  the  colored  porter  has 
come  to  withdraw  the  curtained  canopy 
and  reconvert  my  bed  to  a  double  seat. 
He  at  once  adjusts  my  writing  desk,  and 
out  of  my  traveling  bag  I  get  my  writing 
pad  and  here,  as  if  at  my  study-desk,  I 
write  these  letters  to  you.  I  have  two 
days'  and  two  nights'  lodgment  in  this 
cozy  nook,  and  like  a  true  artist  paints 
from  nature,  so  I  describe  the  scenes  as 
they  roll  without  my  window. 

The  first  call  to  breakfast  !  Prairie 
temperature  begets  an  appetite — it  is  de- 
cidedly cool  and  the  windows  and  ventila- 
tors are  down.  But  what  may  we  expect 
to  eat  in  the  desert  ?  Pity  on  you — I  will 
give  you  my  bill-of-fare  this  morning. 
How  royal-like  to  sit  down  to  feast  of  this 
kind,  in  mirrored  apartment  on  wheels, 
with  no  revolving  fans  overhead,  but  the 
grass-laden  breezes  of  the  prairies  sweet- 
ening the  smell  of  air — and  a  colored 
waiter  adorned  with  boutonniere  bending 


to  Alaska.  4 1 


graciously  over  you.  Now  if  I  were  not 
a  preacher  I  would  consider  myself  to  be 
a  king. 

Breakfast,  Northern  Pacific  R.  R.,  this 
side  Bismarck,  North  Dakotah  dining  car. 

Steamed  Clams. 

Fruit. 

Oatmeal  with  Cream. 
Fresh  Fish.  Codfish  Balls.  Salt  Mackerel. 

Fried  Mush. 

Corned  Beef  Hash,          Calfs'  I^iver  with  Bacon. 
Broiled  Tenderloin  Steak.          Sirloin  Steak.  Ham. 

Mutton  Chops.         Bacon. 

Mushroom  Sauce.         Tomato  Sauce. 

Fjggs— Boiled,  Fried,  Scrambled,  Shirred. 

Omelet-  Plain,  with  Ham,  Parsley,  Jelly  or  Rum. 

Baked  Potatoes.     Brown  Hashed.      Fried  Potatoes. 

Green  Tea.          English  Breakfast  Tea.          Oolong  Tea. 

Coffee.     French  Chocolate.     Milk. 

Vienna  Bread.     Corn  Bread.     Rolls.     Dry  Toast.      Gra- 
ham Bread  Toast.  Dipped  Toast. 

Griddle  Cakes  with  Maple  Syrup. 

Children  between  the  ages  of  five  and  twelve  years, 
occupying  seats,  will  be  charged  50  cents.  Passengers 
not  served  to  their  satisfaction  will  please  report  the 
fact  to  the  dining  car  conductor  at  once. 

Breakfast  7.00  to  9.30,  launch  12.00  to  1.30,  Dinner  5.20 
to  7.30.  Meals  75  cents. 

The  wine  list  on  the  other  side  comprises  twenty-nine 
kinds  of  Champagne,  White  Wines,  Clarets,  liquors, 
etc. 

Cigars. 

Key  West  and  imported  2  for  25C.,  3  for  soc.,  isc.  and  25C. 
each. 

Cigarettes 2oc 

Playin  g  Cards 5oc 

Breakfast  is  my  good  meal,  but  I 
simply  partook  of  breakfast,  and  I  did  not 
swallow  the  entire  bill-of-fare.  I  had  often 


42  Thjough   Wonderland 

heard  of  a  ship  on  fire,  but  I  never" 
thought  of  a  train  on  fire.  Before  noon-- 
lunch the  passengers  were  startled  by  the 
alarm — "  the  dining-car  on  fire!"  I  did 
not  fancy  it,  for  next  to  my  cushioned 
sleeper,  the  dining  car  lay  nearest  to  my 
heart.  On  the  waste  prairies,  and  alJ 
your  coveted  meals  gone  up  in  smoke — 
think  of  it  !  I  did  not  care  for  the  car  so 
much  as  for  the  pantry.  Fortunately  the 
engineer  got  on  increased  speed,  and  we 
soon  shot  into  the  little  station  Dickinson, 
where  the  track -plug  turned  on  hose,  and 
the  fire  was  out.  How  I  blessed  Dickin- 
son—the lunch  was  good. 

We  are  passing  now  through  the  ' '  Bad 
Lands" — 'there  is  no  inspiration  here  fof 
tny  pen  and  so  I  will  lay  it  down.  A 
glacier  slide,  from  the  icy-north,  once1 
upon  a  tim'e,  wrought  out  those  cone-like 
mounds  that  stretch  far  away  like  Ha- 
waiian  hufs,  amphitheatres,  fortresses, 
cathedrals  and  pyramids.  It  is  all  desola- 
tion here — even  crows  afe  not  seen.  But 
you  and  I  have  passed  through  bad  lands 
before,  and  felt  unhappy  in  them  too*. 
But  as  I  am  smiling,  so  may  you,  for  I 
expect  very  soon  to  reach  the  good  land! 
beyond. 


THROUGH     THE     WHEAT     BELT 
AND   THE   COWBOY    LAND. 

VI. 

LIVINGSTON,  MONT.,  JULY  17,  1895. 

Before  you  get  out  of  Minnesota,  by 
the  Northern  Pacific  railroad,  you  will 
pass  through  the  great  lumber  region. 
The  aroma  of  pine  knots  penetrates  your 
car  on  the  evening  air,  you  think  of  the 
woodman's  hut  in  the  dense  forests,  of 
the  music  of  his  axe  by  day,  and  of  the 
flavor  of  his  stones  by  night.  The  Indian 
did  better  in  clearing  land  of  timber — he 
kept  fire  around  each  tree  till  it  burnt  to 
death.  When  it  fell,  he  burned  it  to  such 
length  as  to  make  it  convenient  to  roll  the 
parts  together — and  so  he  consumed  them 
in  a  heap.  But  he  regarded  not  the  tree 
from  a  commercial  standpoint — it  was 
good  to  shade  his  wigwam.  An  army  of 
men  are  away  from  their  families  earning 
their  bread  in  this  wilderness.  After  har- 
vest the  farmer  goes  also. 


44  Through   Wonderland 

THROUGH    THE    WHEAT    BELT. 

I  passed  by  the  best  portion  of  the 
great  wheat-belt,  in  North  Dakota,  by 
night.  In  the  Red  river-bed  lies  the 
famous  Dairy m pie  farm,  consisting  of 
25,000  acres  under  cultivation.  Think  of 
a  stretch  of  wheat  fields  five  miles  square, 
and  the  winds  playing  over  their  golden 
surface  to  make  them  undulate  in  waves, 
like  the  rising  and  falling  of  the  ocean  I 
This  was  the  sight  that  inspired  Bryant — 

"These  are  the  gardens  of  the  desert,  these 
The  unshorn  fields,  boundless  and  beautiful, 
For  which  the  speech  of  Kngland  has  no  name— 
The  Prairies  !    I  behold  them  for  the  first, 
And  my  heart  swells,  while  the  dilated  sight 
Takes  in  the  encircling  vastness." 

Wheat  fields  !  Talk  of  them,  you  Penn- 
sylvania farmers,  as  you  know  them  in 
your  30  and  50  acre  fields- — but  here  the 
pride  of  the  husbandman  roams  over  600 
acre  patches.  No  fence  !— as  far  as  you 
can  see,  no  such  a  thing  as  a  fence.  I 
would  call  such  a  farmer,  as  Dalrymple,  a 
Nabob.  By  the  headline  of  the  farm 
poses  the  rider.  On  horseback  he  com- 
mands the  binders.  No  less  than  fifty  of 
these  ponderous  wind-mill  machines  are 
started  out,  and  they  are  watched  and  di- 
rected like  so  many  shifting  cars.  If  one 


lo  Alaska.  45 


stops,  all  stop — and  that  is  loss  of  time 
and  money  fifty  times  multiplied.  What 
a  sight  and  rattle  and  devastation  among 
the  glory  of  the  wheat  fields  1  One  binder 
alone  cuts  a  swath  twelve  feet  wide. 
When  the  open  air  threshing  is  done, 
Dalrymple  will  have  bagged,  with  fifteen 
bushels  to  the  acre,  no  less  than  375,000 
bushels  of  No.  i  hard  spring  wheat — the 
best  flour-producing  grain  in  the  world. 

The  first  wheat  in  America  was  sown 
by  Gosnold  on  the  Elizabeth  Islands  off 
the  southeast  coast  of  Massachusetts  in 
1602.  The  first  sown  in  Virginia  was  in 
1611.  The  earliest  settlers  raised  it  in 
1648,  and  in  1626  the  Dutch  Colony  took 
the  first  sample  to  Holland.  Behold  now, 
Minneapolis  alone  grinds  up  50,000,000 
bushels  of  wheat  every  year  !  The  poetry 
of  the  flail  is  gone.  Cowper  once  wrote 
of  that  familiar  sound  we  heard  around 
the  old  barn  : 

"Thump  after  thump  resounds  the  constant  flail, 
That  seems  to  swing  uncertain,  and  yet  falls 
Full  on  the  destined  ear." 

Now  it  is  the  wonder-machine  that  does 
it  all  in  one.  In  1853  already,  the  New 
York  Fair  Machine  Exhibition  showed 
one  of  these  field  monarchs  which 


46  Through  Wonderland 

threshed  and  winnowed  the  wheat, 
measured,  bagged  it  ready  for  market, 
and  recorded  accurately  the  number  of 
bushels,  all  by  one  continuous  operation. 

AMONG   THE    COWBOYS. 

Now  we  pass  through  the  grazing  coun- 
try of  Montana,  and  we  come  to  the  story 
of  the  cowboy.  The  engine  whistles  its 
shrill  alarm  every  once  in  awhile,  for 
herds  of  cattle  are  crossing  the  track  and 
are  threatening  an  obstruction.  See  ! 
how  they  scamper  wild-like,  on  the  right 
and  on  the  left.  Far  away  reaches  the 
bunch -grass  region,  which  cures  in  the 
dry  air  of  summer  and  furnishes  feed  for 
winter.  It  is  said  to  be  more  nutritious 
than  the  blue  grass  of  Kentucky.  Think 
of  it  !  a  100,000  head  of  range  cattle  are 
shipped  every  year  to  the  Eastern  market. 
This  was  a  splendid  winter  for  cattle, 
sheep  and  horses  out  here,  and  on  Friday 
of  July  i Qth,  250  carloads  of  steers  will 
be  shipped  from  Dickinson.  This  is  an 
early  start  and  a  good  indication  of  a 
prosperous  market. 

How  sleek  and  fat  these  cattle  look! — 
I  pass  herds  and  herds.  A  range  is  not  a 
palatial  appointment  by  any  means — a 
one-story  log  cabin,  a  long-mud-covered 


to  Alaska.  47 


shed,  a  few  sticks  for  a  fence,  and  a  host 
of  children  clinging  to  the  top  of  them  to 
view  the  passing  train.  There  are  finer 
ones — but  this  is  the  average  sample. 
The  railroads  own  this  land  for  forty  miles 
on  either  side,  and  it  is  every  man's  land. 
All  summer  the  steers  roam  in  herds,  and 
know  no  home  and  no  man.  Let  a  man 
on  foot  approach  a  big-horned  steer,  and 
he  as  soon  would  attempt  to  face  a  fero- 
cious bull.  On  horseback  he  is  safe.  In 
the  fall  the  cowboy  is  sent  out  to  search 
for  miles  around,  and  the  ' '  round-up  ' '  is 
made,  when  all  cattle  found  are  brought 
in  promiscuously,  and  the  owners  select 
their  steers  by  the  brands  upon  them. 
Then,  too,  the  calves  have  followed  in 
with  the  mother-cow,  and  they  are  branded 
to  roam  abroad  next  turn-out.  In  winter 
the  cowboy  goes  out  to  keep  the  herds  at 
moving,  else  they  hide  in  brush -lands, 
starve  and  freeze. 

The  cowboy's  life  is  a  hard  one.  Dur- 
ing the  month  of  the  round-up  he  en- 
camps and  fairly  lives  in  his  saddle.  But 
he  manages  to  have  his  fun.  I  notice 
rudely  improvised  race-tracks,  and  the  in  - 
tervals  of  rest  bring  him  sports  of  horse- 
manship and  midnight  larks  at  far-away 


48  Through  Wonderland 


taverns.  Ah !  he  looks  well  astride  a 
horse,  with  his  broad-brimmed  hat,  his 
belted  pistol  and  knife,  his  coiling  rope, 
and  long  flowing  hair.  Over  there  the 
dust  flies  and  six  of  them  gallop  along 
with  a  motion  of  grace  that  would  attract 
attention  in  the  finest  city-park.  The 
mud- hotel  at  Faldon  amused  me.  It  had 
such  a  pretentious  sign  over  the  log-hinged 
door.  And  yet  I  was  told  that  aristocratic 
dealers  from  Chicago  and  St.  Paul  often 
have  to  lodge  there,  dividing  their  meals 
with  the  cowboy.  It  is  one  of  the  great 
prairie  shipping  places,  easily  reached 
from  the  inland.  There  is  a  law  of  honor 
among  the  range-people.  If  in  shipment 
any  strange  cattle  have  strayed  among 
them,  they  are  loaded  with  the  lot,  the 
brand  taken  notice  of,  and  by  referring  to 
the  prairie-register  the  money  of  the  steers 
is  returned  to  the  rightful  owner.  Cattle 
sell  on  feet  at  4j^  cents  per  pound.  At 
night  in  the  dim  outline  as  the  engine  set 
our  pathway  aglow  with  burning  grass,  I 
saw  cowboys  at  rest  with  the  horses  tied 
along  to  stakes.  I  recalled  a  beautiful 
chapter  in  Washington  Irving' s  prairie 
life,  which  speaks  so  tenderly  of  his  faith- 
ful desert-steed.  Here  and  there  sur- 


to  Alaska.  49 


prises  of  flower-patches  catch  your  eye, 
and  it  must  have  been  a  picture  like  this, 
that  made  Hiawatha  say  : 

"  "Tis  the  heaven  of  flowers  you  see  there  ; 

All  the  wild  flowers  of  the  forest, 

All  the  lilies  of  the  prairie, 

When  on  earth  they  fade  and  perish, 

Blossom  in  that  heaven  above  us." 

IN  THE  BELT  RANGE  MOUNTAINS. 

At  Livingston,  Montana,  our  sleeper 
was  side-tracked  at  3  o'clock  of  Wednes- 
day morning.  I  awoke  early  in  silence 
and  saw  out  of  my  berth  window  the 
snow-topped  peaks  that  look  down  toward 
the  Yellowstone.  Before  closed  taxider- 
mist stores  black  bear  and  elk  were  play- 
ing to  the  limit  of  their  ropes,  and  this 
wild  aspect  of  things  gave  me  the  same 
sensations  I  experienced  among  the  Alps. 
We  tarry  here  to  catch  the  east-bound 
over-land  express,  and  then  we  will  be  off 
for  the  first  great  natural  wonder  of  my 
trip — the  National  Yellowstone  Park. 


CLIMBING    THE     ROCKY     MOUN- 
TAINS BY  STAGE. 

VII. 

YELLOWSTONE  PARK,  JULY  22,  1895. 

You  enter  Yellowstone  Park,  and  after 
six  days  you  come  out  of  it.  and  you  tell 
the  story  of  the  Wonderland  of  the 
Worjd.  This  spot  is  a  national  reserva- 
tion sixty-five  miles  wide  and  seventy-five 
miles  long — -it  is  in  the  heart  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  You  pass  through  Paradise 
Valley  and  enter  by  the  Golden  Gate,  and 
that  thought  alone  is  inspiring  to  the 
pleasure-seeking  pilgrims.  It  is  hard, 
even  now,  to  classify  the  impressions  re- 
ceived, for  they  tumble  along  like  the  con- 
fused cascades  we  have  seen.  Even  more 
have  we  witnessed — -all  the  place  seems 
but  a  covering  of  a  seething,  boiling  cal- 
dron beneath  the  earth.  No  wonder  the 
Indians  had  fear  to  tread  this  territory,  for 
they  had  no  other  explanation  of  it  but 
that  the  evil  spirits  inhabit  it.  And  this 
superstition  seems  to  find  endorsement  in 
the  many  names  that  savor  of  his  satanic 


to  Alaska.  51 


majesty— the  "  Devil's  Slide  "— "  Devil's 
Thumb  "— "  Devil's  Kitchen"  —  "  Devil's 
Frying  Pan  ' '  and  the  like. 

AMONG   THE   SHOOTING    GEYSERS. 

I  will  reserve  the  story  for  another  oc- 
casion to  tell  how  the  geysers  shoot  out 
their  hot  spray  200  feet  aloft,  and  growl 
and  roar  with  subterranean  noises,  then 
subside  and  wait  for  the  next  periodical 
mood  ;  how  paint-pots  bubble,  as  if  imps 
were  stirring  the  colored  material  to  bring 
it  to  a  proper  consistency  ;  how  the  hot 
springs  smoke  over  a  stretch  of  170  acres, 
and  at  a  temperature  of  190°  Fahrenheit, 
shed  their  waters  over  towering  terraces 
of  alabaster,  and  steppes  in  shades  of  red, 
brightest  scarlet  and  rose  tint  ;  how  pools 
of  morning  glory  reflect  in  their  limpid 
depths  and  heighten  by  their  gentle  vibra- 
tions the  overhanging  cloud,  and  fringe  it 
with  the  ultramarine  colors  of  the  sea  ; 
how  volcanoes  thump  and  thunder,  dis- 
gorging volumes  of  mud  ;  how  lakes  and 
mountain  heights  have  their  steaming  es- 
capes of  the  fires  that  burn  for  the  ages  be- 
low. Interspersed  for  miles,  is  the  peace- 
ful beauty  of  valleys  in  which  the  water- 
falls mingle  their  music  with  mountain 
birds,  and  now  through  the  gorges  rush 


52  Through  Wonderland 

the  wild  streams,  and  yonder  flows  in  the 
wilderness  meadow  the  Gibbon  river,  full 
of  the  spirit  of  the  hills — 

"  This  swiftly-flowing  river, 
This  silver-gliding  river, 
Whose  springing  willows  shiver 
In  the  sunset  as  of  old. 

They  shiver  in  the  silence 
Of  the  willow-clustered  islands, 
While  the  sun-bars  and  the  sand-bars 
Fill  air  and  wave  with  gold." 

We  follow  the  majestic  Yellowstone  un- 
til it  brings  us  to  its  dizzy  leap  of  360  feet, 
and  opens  up  to  our  vision  the  twelve-mile 
x  chasm     through     which     its     contracted 
I!  waters  roll     Alas  !   for  words  to  tell  the 
U  wonders   of   this    Grand    Canyon.        Not 
\among  the   Alps  have  we  seen  its  like. 
Transfixed    upon     Inspiration     Point    we 
stand,  1,500  feet  aloft,  and  gaze  upon  the 
depth  below,    solemn  as  night,   silent  as 
death.      Only  two  sounds  we  hear — the 
river's     melancholy    moan,     the     eagle's 
shrill  cry.     Down  there  on  several  of  the 
rocky  tunnels  are  built  the  nests,  four  feet 
wide,    and    in   them    repose   the    young, 
eager   to   spread   their   wings,   and,    like 
their    parents,   demonstrate    the    mighty 
circles  of  American  liberty.      But  beyond 
it  all,  and  around  it  all,  stand  these  pre- 
cipitous   towers    of    stone,    and    between 


To  Alaska.  53 

them  is  cut  the  gorge,  that  is  all  aflame 
with  color — all  is  a  sheet  of  crimson, 
draperies  of  green  and  brown— a  rainbow 
broken  in  pieces,  and  scattered  up  and 
down  these  spectral  heights.  Thomas 
Moran  has  sat  down  there  to  paint  the 
vision,  if  you  visit  the  Capitol  city,  see  it- 

A    STAGE    DRIVE    OF    l6o   MILES. 

To  do  the  Park  you  must  encircle  it  by 
stage.  Before  the  Hot  Springs  hotel 
stand  ready  nine  strong-built  vehicles,  and 
four  heavy  horses,  to  draw  each  over  a 
divided  circuit  of  160  miles.  The  tourists 
to-day  are  63  in  number.  They  are  well .% 
equipped  for  the  journey — -winter  under- It 
garments,  overcoat,  duster  or  mackintosh/  / 
' — 8,000  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea 
brings  you  nights  of  frost,  and  the  moun- 
tain-peaks around  you,  all  covered  with 
snow,  are  the  indicators  of  a  cool  clime. 
What  expert  Jehus,  these  stage  drivers  ! 
They  handle  their  reins,  and  crack  their 
whips  like  an  artist,  Most  thrilling  to 
whirl  around  these  precipitous  heights 
with  a  narrow  margin  to  the  wheel  !  The 
yarns  of  the  driver  are  often  as  highly 
colored  as  the  Yellowstone  chasm.  In  the 
lull  of  a  slow  climb  I  ventured  to  demon- 
strate to  my  youthful  expert  of  four-in- 


54  Through  Wonderland 

hand,  the  usefulness  of  ministers  in  the* 
world.  He  seriously  answered:  "Yes, 
my  father  had  intended  making  a  minister 
of  me  also — but  he  found  me  so  truthful, 
that  he  thought  he  had  better  make  a 
stage-driver  out  of  me. "  The  witty  re- 
tort made  the  coach*full  roar  at  my  ex- 
pense—they were  a  congenial  set,  my 
fellow  tourists,  At  the  Grand  Canyon  I 
preached  to  an  audience  representing  al- 
most every  State  in  the  Union.  I  had 
the  brawny  stage  drivers  invited  to 
worship,  and  they  looked  grotesque  amid 
this  gathering,  But  they  were  the  most 
devout  listeners,  and  one  of  them  con- 
fessed that  it  was  the  first  sermon  he  had 
heard  in  fifteen  years  on  these  hills,  and 
the  eighth  sermon  in  his  life-time. 

LIFE    IN    THE    ROCKIES. 

The  Government  has  cavalry  soldiers 
stationed  at  different  points  of  the  tourist's 
route*  They  protect  the  geyser-forma- 
tions from  relic-hunters,  secure  the  woods 
from  camp-fire,  and  guard  the  mountain 
passes  for  the  stages.  Special  guards 
scour  the  wilds  to  arrest  poachers.  It  is 
interesting  to  meet  the  "campers"  on 
the  lonely  highways.  City  bred  families, 
of  a  romantic  turn,  leave  their  homes  of 


To  Alaska.  55 

luxury  to  rough  it  here.  We  pass  such  an 
Outfit.  A  mounted  guide  has  by  his  side 
a  dainty  looking  school  girl  of  about  six- 
teen. She  is  well  mounted,  richly  gloved, 
and  looks  coyly  from  under  her  veil-drawn 
sun-bonnet.  Surely  she  discountenances 
city  complexion,  and  prefers  the  rustic 
bloom  of  the  hills. 

Six  pack-horses  follow  and  a  little  colt 
i-— all  driven  by  the  multier.  They  are 
laden  down  with  canvas  packs  and  look 
like  a  caravan  of  dromedaries.  They  run 
loose  and  follow  the  leader.  An  easy 
coach  is  a  little  pace  behind,  containing 
the  residue  of  the  family — an  aristocratic 
equipment.  They  break  tent  and  squat 
where  they  please,  and  so  have  their  flit- 
ting outing  of  the  season.  Fish  from  the 
streams,  meats  from  the  fifty-mile  stations, 
with  an  occasional  stolen  game,  supply 
the  larder.  As  for  wood  to  kindle  the  fire 
- — well,  there  are  billions  of  feet  of  waste 
timber  lying  on  the  hills.  On  a  stretch  of 
one  hundred  miles  the  road  passes  through 
a  wilderness  of  pines  that  stand  guard  like 
stately  sentinels  all  the  way,  and  beneath 
them,  as  far  as  you  can  see,  trees  lie  as 
thick  as  leaves,  Amid  all  this  waste  is 


56  Through  Wonderland 

the  paradise  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  wild 
flower  in  almost  every  hue  and  variety. 

STORIES    AROUND    THE    LOG-FIRE. 

At  the  mountain  hotel  the  fire-logs  are 
ablaze  of  an  evening.  A  group  of  guests 
are  joined  by  the  local  celebrities,  and  the 
scene  is  an  inspiration  for  story-telling. 
Says  a  New  Yorker  to  a  Chicagoan  in  a 
word- combat  of  boast — "  Well,  what 
superior  thing  have  you  about  your  fire 
equipment  out  there?"  "  We  have,  sir, 
something  very  superior  in  the  way  of  es- 
capes," answered  the  Western  man — • 
"  we  have  an  ingenious  device  of  net,  into 
which  those  endangered  by  fire  will  leap 
from  the  highest  story,  and  will  safely  be 
caught  without  injury  to  body  or  soul." 
"Oh  !  we  can  do  better  than  that,"  in- 
terposed the  New  York  man;  "  the  other 
week  the  chief  rushed  to  the  fire,  saw  the 
situation,  two  men  in  the  top-story  window 
of  a  burning  building  ;  he  ordered  the 
engineer  to  turn  on  the  stream.  When  it 
reached  up,  he  commanded  the  endangered 
men  to  sit  on  it,  and  by  a  second  signal  to 
the  engineer,  he  gradually  lowered  the 
stream  and  so  brought  them  safely  down 
to  the  ground."  A  local  fisherman  broke 
in  upon  the  laughter — "  It  scarcely  comes 


to  Alaska.  57 


up  to  my  experience — the  other  day  I 
cast  a  line  in  the  lake  above.  I  soon  had 
a  tremendous  bite,  and  when  I  pulled  out 
the  fish  to  land,  the  lake  fell  two  feet." 
The  soldier  turned  the  current  of  incident 
to  the  more  truthful  experiences  in  moun- 
tain life.  He  told  of  the  herds  of  elks  he 
had  seen  in  Hayden  Valley,  in  groups  of 
several  hundred,  and  repeated  the  dis- 
covery of  Captain  Scott's  party  in  March, 
1894,  when  visiting  the  winter  ranges  of 
the  game.  They  invaded  the  wilderness- 
domain  on  Norwegian  snowshoes,  and 
found  a  ' '  cache  "  of  a  poacher  who  just 
had  finished  slaughtering  six  buffaloes,  by 
driving  them  into  the  snow.  Buffalo  heads 
are  sold  at  $500  a-piece.  He  was  arrested. 
Since  then  the  law  reads  that  hunting  or 
killing  of  birds  or  animals  in  the  park  is 
prohibited — fine$i,ooo,  imprisonment  not 
more  than  two  years.  Campers  and  tour- 
ists must  have  fire-arms  sealed. 

AN    EXPERIENCE    WITH    A    BEAR. 

It  was  our  good  fortune  to  pass  many 
of  the  animals  of  the  Rockies  in  their 
wild  state  We  came  across  seven  bear, 
but  it  did  not  become  exciting  until  in  an 
evening-walk  back  of  the  Lake  Hotel,  we 
encountered  a  cinnamon  specimen  of  400 


58  Through   Wonderland 

pounds.  We  treed  him,  and  from  the 
middle  limbs  he  growled  down  at  us,  and 
ground  his  teeth  together  like  the  clatter 
of  two  stones  hit  one  upon  the  other. 
His  black  companion  scampered  over  the 
hills,  every  once  in  a  while  looking  back. 
Little  did  Mr.  Bruin  know  who  might  be 
master  of  the  situation.  Had  he  but 
feigned  to  come  down  in  a  little  exhibition 
of  rage,  he  could  have  seen  a  foot  race 
over  rocks  and  through  swamps  without 
any  regard  to  ministerial  clothes  or  pro- 
priety. A  whole  dozen  of  bears  fight 
around  the  hotel  at  night  over  the  kitchen 
refuse  barrel. 

The  metropolis  of  the  American  trout- 
kingdom  is  Yellowstone  Lake.  It  is  filled 
with  fish  as  London  is  filled  with  human 
beings.  I  never  could  have  conceived 
that  the  fly  could  lure  so  many  captives  in 
a  given  hour.  From  the  time  of  four 
o'clock  to  six,  two  boats  of  three  men  and 
one  lady  brought  in  130  specimens  of  an 
average  pound  and  quarter  fish.  It  was 
considered  a  small  catch.  From  the  stage, 
along  the  Yellowstone-river  you  could  see 
schools  playing  in  the  translucent  water,- 
counting  thousands  to  the  mile.  Beyond 
the  first  attempt,  fishing  up  here  is  a 


to  Alaska.  59 


slaughtering  business  Trout  that  would 
sell  at  one  dollar  a  piece  in  New  York,  are 
allowed  to  lie  in  strings  of  fifty  and  more 
by  the  boats  for  the  bears  to  devour  at 
night. 

On  the  brink  of  the  Yellowstone  Park 
300  Bannock  warriors  are  up  in  arms  to 
avenge  the  slaughter  of  seventeen  of  their 
tribe.  There  were  133  fresh  elk  skins  in 
their  camp  in  violation  of  the  Wyoming 
laws,  Princeton  University  students  on  a 
geological  tour  were  reported  as  lost  but 
they  have  made  their  way  to  the  Park.  Per- 
haps it  is  providential  that  I  leave  these 
premises  at  this  time — anyhow  the  toma- 
hawk in  history  and  poetry  is  good 
enough  for  me. 


AMONG   THE    INDIAN    AND   WIG- 
WAM OF  THE  WILD  WEST. 

VIII. 

CASCADE  MOUNTAINS,  JULY  24,  1895. 

The  evening  star  !  Alone  by  the  car 
window  I  sit  to-night.  Around  me  £he 
sleeper  curtains  are  drawn  and  the  pas- 
sengers have  gone  to  rest.  But  I  tarry — 
I  would  commune  a  little  with  that  bright 
luminary  of  the  western  sky  and  revel  in 
the  memories  of  my  travels.  Across  the 
Atlantic  that  lone  star  had  accompanied 
me,  and  now  in  my  transcontinental  tour 
it  looks  with  a  benign  radiancy  upon  me 
again.  Nigh  3,500  miles  have  I  already 
journeyed,  through  prairies,  plains  and 
valleys,  over  mountains,  rivers  and  lakes, 
of  * '  kaleidoscopic  variety  ' '  —  and  as 
darkness  has  come,  that  unchangeable 
friend  ever  shines  upon  my  path.  Thy 
constancy  is  sweet— I  will  say  my  evening 
prayer  toward  thee,  for  not  far  above  thee 
is  my  unchangeable  God.  Through  the 
wilderness  of  forests  I  flit — how  silent  the 
night  !  But  listen  I  By  a  lone  pine-log 


to  Alaska*  6 1 


station  we  halt  for  a  moment.  Under  the 
dim  glare  of  a  suspended  lantern  belated 
maidens  and  young  men  sing  and  make 
merry,  and  a  harmonica  accompanies 
their  woodland  song.  The  music  of  night 
•stirs  up  the  tenderest  memories  when  far 
away.  Again,  my  palatial  overland  cara- 
vansary moves  on— and  now,  good-night! 

IN    THE   LAND    OF  GOLD. 

I  thought  that  we  never  would  get 
across  the  State  of  Montana.  The  North- 
ern Pacific  railroad  traverses  it  for  800 
miles.  This  corporation  is  a  vast  system 
and  a  great  land-owner.  From  St.  Paul 
to  the  Pacific  coast  it  holds  36,000,000 
acres  of  soil,  and  in  Montana  alone  it  has 
17,000,000.  You  can't  conceive  of  Mon- 
tana's area  so  well  on  the  map — but  you 
tnay  put  all  of  the  Eastern  States  into  it, 
besides  New  York,  Pennsylvania,  New 
Jersey,  and  have  a  little  margin  left  for 
Maryland.  It  is  the  mineral  State  of  the 
Union,  and  its  output  of  gold,  silver, 
•copper  and  lead  is  about  $4:5,000,000  a 
year.  Helena  is  its  capital,  and  though  it 
has  but  13,000  inhabitants,  it  is  the  richest 
city  of  its  size  in  the  world — its  assets  are 
$25,000-,  ooo,  its  bank  surplus  about 
$4,000,000,  and  its  individual  deposits 


62  Through  Wonderland 

nearly  $9,000,000.  In  it  lives  the  Irish 
Robert  Cruse,  who  for  twenty  years  was 
counted  the  fool  of  the  town,  for  spending 
his  daily  mining  wages  "on  a  plant  in 
which  he  had  faith.  At  last  the  lesson 
of  perseverance  flashed  upon  the  Western 
world — he  sold  part  interest  to  an  English 
syndicate  for  $4,000,000,  and  now  he  is 
no  longer  a  fool. 

Gold  !  gold  ! — for  half  a  century  it  has 
made  men  wanderers  on  the  face  of  this 
part  of  the  earth.  Into  these  rocky 
gulches  men  trudged  from  the  far  eastern 
homes,  and  came  to  desert-spots,  where 
never  a  garden  grew  a  vegetable  and  no 
grass  was  seen.  At  night  they  had  be- 
come princes  and  next  day  they  again 
were  paupers.  In  the  fury  of  the  rush 
they  had  found — and  then  man,  woman 
and  child  affected  the  western  style  of 
fashionable  gambling  —  and  they  lost. 
Millionaires  and  paupers  in  Montana  are 
its  greatest  products. 

PASSING    THE    INDIAN    WIGWAM. 

Ah  !  the  Indian — that  child  of  the 
forest.  I  knew  him  best  in  Longfellow. 
The  only  slight  token  of  civilization  that 
I  found  in  him  according  to  my  early 


h  Alaska.  63 

mind,  was  his  cornfield.     The  Hiawatha- 
poet  draws  the  picture — 

"  All  around  the  happy  village 
Stood  the  maize  fields,  green  and  shining, 
Waved  the  green  plumes  of  Mondamin, 
Waved  his  soft  and  sunny  tresses, 
Filling  all  the  land  with  plenty." 

Well,  that  which  is  the  greatest  staple 
crop  of  the  country  is  of  American  origin, 
cultured  among  the  Indians  at  the  time  of 
discovery  by  Columbus.  It  is  growing 
wild  in  parts  of  Central  America,  but  ac- 
cording to  Humboldt,  maize  or  Turkish 
corn  was  carried  to  the  old  continent  from 
the  new. 

Not  the  Indian  of  Buffalo  BilPs  show- 
but  the  Indian  of  the  western  wigwam,  is 
what  interests  me   to-day — the  Indian  of 
the  tomahawk  and  the  pipe-of-peace  ;    of 
the    war-dance    and    the    deer-hunt — the 
Indian  on  his   native  trail.     At  one  time 
all  this  land  was  his  hunting  ground — to- 
day he  lives  on  reservations.      It  is  one  of 
the  many  illustrations  of  the  law — the  sur- 
vival   of  the   fittest.     The    "  Blackfeet," 
* '  Flat-Heads, "     "  Missoulas, "      "  Yaki- 
mas,"  4'  Puyallups,"  and  others  I  passed. 
Yonder  scene  brings    up   my  school-boy 
fancies,   when  pictures  of   this   wild   man 
showed  him  in  war-dress,  astride  his  steed. 


64  Through   Wonderland 


A  copper  back  ground  of  hill  brings  to 
bold  relief  seven  riders  of  the  savage  tribe. 
Plumes  and  feathers,  gaudy  cloaks  and 
wavy  black  hair,  undulate  with  measured 
motion  in  the  wind,  as  the  cloud  of  dust 
rolls  back  and  up  from  beneath  the  hoofs 
of  their  flying  ponies.  Ah  !  there  are 
your  artists  of  horsemanship.  Now  here 
close  by  we  pass  the  squaws  slowly  plod- 
ding down  the  hillside  one  by  one.  Hat- 
less  they  sit  on  horses,  ladened  with 
the  family  drudgery — child  in  front,  child 
on  back,  a  frisky  colt  by  their  side,  and  a 
sneaky  cur  of  a  dog  bringing  up  the  rear. 
They  smoke  the  pipe,  as  they  go  along; 
with  the  air  of  sleepy  contentment. 

THE    CIVILIZATION    OF    THE    INDIAN, 

I  am  thinking  of  the  civilizing  process 
of  the  Indian.  A  wheat  inspector  by  my 
side  discourses  of  the  Cceur  De  Lene, 
tk  Heart  of  the  Arrow/'  a  tribe  into  whose 
valley  he  often  descends.  He  speaks  of 
them  as  a  lazy  set,  who  ridicule  the  young' 
when  they  return  from  training  school, 
and  soon  induces  them  to  lay  aside  the 
civilized  g.'irb  and  don  again  the  savage 
blanket.  This  tribe  have  their  reservation 
by  the  famous  gold  mine  hills,  and  their 
rich  land  reaches  fifty  miles  across.  A 


to  Alaska.  65 


few  years  ago  the  Government  gave  over 
$1,000,000,  or  $i,  too  to  each  of  the  i,  TOO 
men,  women  and  children,  for  the  cession 
of  a  strip  of  their  productive  lands. 

But  the  civilization  of  the  Indian  is  no 
failure- — -and  missionary  work  is  doing  it, 
I  had  a  talk  with  a  full-fledged  Indian 
preacher  of  the  Yakima  tribe,  who  was 
accompanied  by  a  Puyallup  representative, 
to  go  to  Tacoma  to  meet  an  official  to  se- 
cure the  removal  of  the  agent  of  their 
reservation.  He  was  cheating'  in  a  high- 
handed way  in  managing  the  sales  of 
product  on  the  Indian  farms.  The  Yakima 
Valley  has  the  richest  soil  of  the  country, 
and  this  savage  tribe  of  2,000,  have 
turned  out  to  be  farmers  and  horse- 
breeders.  They  have  all  of  the  modern 
machinery,  plow  their  farms  of  300  acres, 
and  reap  with  the  binder.  But  the  lazy 
instinct  employs  the  white  man  to  do  most 
of  their  work.  Many  of  the  Indian 
farmers  have  bank  deposits  of  $2,000,  and 
some  of  their  farms  are  valued  at  $10,000. 
This  Indian  preacher  was  of  the  Methodist 
persuasion — the  Cceur  De  Lene  are  all 
Catholics.  I  asked  him  what  name  they 
have  for  God,  in  their  language.  He  said  it 
was  a  new  name  to  their  tongue,  and  they 


66  Through  Wonderland 


say  God  and  Jesus  Christ,  as  we  do.  He 
Was  a  tall  red*face~— spoke  English,  as  a 
child  begins  to  walk— and  had  no  syco* 
phant  air  about  him.  The  stern,  hardened 
features  of  tbe  savage  were  there,  no 
polish  or  suavity  of  manners  accompanied 
his  talk,  and  when  he  was  done  with  me, 
he  even  walked  away  without  a  courtesy, 
and  never  looked  back  again.  It  will  take 
several  generations  of  gospel  grace  until 
those  harsh  lines  are  eliminated  from  his 
face.  All  along  the  reservation  districts 
where  civilization  has  given  houses  to  the 
Indian  you  will  find  that  the  "  tepee  "  or 
wigwam  still  prevails.  The  Indian  eats  in 
the  house,  but  prefers  to  sleep  in  the  tepee, 
summer  and  winter.  There  he  reclines  on 
the  earth,  with  feet  toward  the  centre,  and 
a  smouldering  fire,  built  by  the  squaw,  to 
keep  his  feet  warm.  Alas  !  how  the  glory 
of  the  Indian  has  passed  away.  The 
pale-face  has  left  to  him  a  place  to  breathe 
and  live- — but  that  is  about  all. 


IN  THE  RISING  SEAPORT  OF  THE 
NORTHWEST. 

IX. 

TACOMA,  WASH.,  JULY  26,  1895. 
At  last  we  have  come  to  Tacoma  -situ- 
ated on  the  Mediterranean  of  the  Pacific. 
From  the  hotel  veranda,  bearing  the  city's 
name,  can  be  seen  Mt.  Rainier,  sixty 
miles,  away,  rearing  its  snow-capped  peak 
into  the  clouds,  14,444  feet  high.  Of  it 
you  may  say — 

"  Mountain,— thou  image  of  eternity  1— 

Oh  !  let  not  foreign  feet  inquisitive, 

Swift  in  untrained  aspirings,  proudly  tempt 

Thy  searchless  waste  1   what  half-taught  fortitude 

Can  balance  unperturbed  above  the  clefts 

Of  yawning  and  unfathomable  ice 

That  moat  thee  round  ;  or  wind  the  giddy  ledge 

Of  thy  sheer  granite  !". 

I  was  glad  to  strike  the  State  of  Wash* 
ington,  for  it  was  rightly  styled  the 
"  Pennsylvania  of  the  Northwest."  I 
shook  off  the  dust  of  the  alkali  region  and 
awoke  to  the  sweet  altitude  of  the  Cascade 
heights.  For  eight  minutes,  buried  in  the 
two-mile  Stampede  tunnel,  the  engine 
steamed  upon  points  of  vision  most  wonder- 


68  Through  Wonderland 


ful — ranges  of  timber-land!  —  160,000,- 
000,000  feet  of  the  finest  timber  in  the 
world.  Now  I  pass  along  the  hop-fields, 
60,000  bales  of  which  afe  shipped  via  Balti- 
more to  Europe.  The  sulphur  will  soon 
smoke  out  of  the  barn-cupolas,  and  the 
bleached  pfoduct  will  go  out  to  the  foreign 
marts  to  give  the  wild  stimulus  of  beer. 

RESTING    AT    TACOMA    HOTEL. 

I  express  my  delight,  now  that  I  can 
brush  off  the  dust  of  the  prairie  fields, 
and  after  one  long  stretch  of  two1  night's 
car  riding,  can  don  my  more  conventional 
garb,  and  find  myself  a  gentleman.  And 
first  of  all  my  mail  !  1  have  not  heard 
from  friends  in  the  East  since  first  I 
started  upon  my  zigzag  wandering  amid 
the  wilds.  Here  they  are— letters,  all  in 
a  tremendous  pile.  How  sweet  these 
missives  !  Had  they  wings  to  come 
hither  so  quickly  ?  Had  they  intelligence 
to  find  their  way  all  across  this  continent  ? 
Think  of  it — but  fifty  years  ago  letters 
traveled  hither  by  coach  at  the  rate  of 
four  miles  to  the  hour— and  now  they 
traverse  the  land  from  ocean  to  ocean  in 
the  marvellous  time  of  six  days. 

I  like  this  city.  It  is  euphonious  in 
name,  and  rises  proudly  on  a  hill*  like 


To  Alaska.  69 


some  cathedral  dome.  It  aspires  to  be  the 
greatest  seaport  of  the  Northwest  and  ex- 
tends its  commerce  to  Liverpool  and  South 
Africa,  to  Yokohama  and  Hong  Kong  by 
sea,  and  from  Pacific's  West  .to  Atlantic's 
East  by  land.  It  boasts  of  wheat  ship- 
ments— -2,500,786  centals,  and  lumber 
shipments —62,300,000  feet,  and  sends  its 
Yaki.ma  fruit  to  Boston. 

A    CITY    FIFTEEN    YEARS    OLD, 

From  a  struggling  lumber  camp  of  720 
souls  in  1880,  Tacoma  has  attained  to  the 
wonder  achievement  of  a  city  of  50,000 
inhabitants  in  1895.  Its  streets  are  laid 
in  planks  at  $7  per  fhousand  feet,  and  has 
but  one  exception.  Its  business  struc- 
tures  are  stone,  and  five  and  seven  stories 
high,  and  it  is  slowly  building  another 
$1,000,000  hotel  by  its  Puget  Sound. 

This  is  all  glowingly  true,  and  to  the 
eastern  ear  it  is  the  beckoning  voice  of  a 
western  flight.  But,  young  man,  the 
boast  of  the  west  is  also  to  be  taken  with 
reservation— for  these  coast-cities  of  the 
northwestern  Pacific  have  a  tale  of  sorrow 
too.  A  great  boom  is  often  a  bubble  that 
will  break — -and  Tacoma  and  Seattle  and 
even  Spokane  will  all  have  to  gather  their 


Jo  Throiigh   Vbonderland 

achievements,  and   start  them    afresh,  on 
hewer  and  more  conservative  bases. 

YOUNG   MAN,   GO    WEST. 

Very  facetiously  it  is  said — ( '  Ever  since* 
Columbus  took  Horace  Gfeeley's  advice 
and  went  West,  youth  and  hope  have 
faced  in  that  direction."  The  West  has 
its  future— but  Greeley's  future  is  more  irl 
the  yesterday  tha'n  in  the  to-morrow.  A 
booming  city  is  good  enough  for  gamblers 
in  real  estate,  to  buy  and  sell  over  night, 
but  every  boom  of  the  West  has  had  its 
explosion  and  terrible  reaction.  Eastern 
capital  comes  out  here,  and  generally 
stays  too  long^-too  long  in  the  booming 
high-water  tide.  The  story  has  been  told 
in  these  panic  times^ — it  was  intoxicated 
with  its  10  per  cent,  investments,  and 
tarried  to  come  home  shorn.  I  mean  not 
to  disparage  the  West — but  I  wait  for  a 
conservative  West.  The  West  belongs  to 
the  whole  country,  and  it  is  the  East  that 
has  made  the  West-— eastern  capital,  east- 
ern men.  Most  of  the  farms  here  that 
thrived  on  investments  of  the  East  have 
been  settled  by  adventurers.  If  you  give 
me  the  tenacious  and  plodding  and  indus- 
trious Berks  county  fariner,  I  am  willing 
to  believe  in  the  farms  here  very 


To  Alaska. 


but  later  only,  under  present  outlook,  will 
I  say — invest  ! 

The  man  who  is  feed  in  a  moderate" 
competency,  I  advise  to  stay  East.  The 
young  man,  who  is  willing  to  work,  can 
do  as  well  West  as  East,  and  no  better. 
If  he  is  shrewd  and  has  capital,  he  may 
grow  rich  very  soon — but  capital  is  as 
potent  east  of  the  Rockies  and  the-  Miss^ 
issippi  and  the  Schuylkill  in  the  avenues 
of  investment  as  in  the  West.  There  you 
have  a  homestead,  and  the  charming 
history  of  family,  and  sweet  amenities  of 
birthright — here  all  is  stumps  on  the  one 
side,  and  a  new  civilization  on  the  other. 
Church-life  is  not  the  faith  of  the  fore- 
fathers under  the  century  trees  of  old 
Zion,  and  the*  willowed  graveyards  bear" 
not  the  tombstone  of  a  line  of  ancestry. 
People  here  select  religion  so  largely 
along  the  line  of  the  pioneer-spirit — they 
have  sacrificed  all  to  make  money. 
Through  the  church  to  business  is  much 
the  thought.  In  coast  cities,  out  of  forty 
preachers,  thirty-six  often  leave  in  five 
years,  beyond  that,  four  are  the  patriarchs. 
Once  out,  it  is  hard  to  get  back — easy 
enough  to  get  West,  not  so  easy  to  get 
East.  Those  who  have  come  have  done 


72  Through  Wonderland 


wonders  in  accumulation  of  wealth — the 
majority  have  just  lived.  Wonderful 
West  !  But  first  have  money— then  come 
West. 

IN    TACOMA   STREETS. 

This  city  has  a  great  future,  but  it  is  a 
type  of  booming-  times.  Five  years  ago 
building-lots  sold  at  fabulous  prices — -now 
they  sell  at  one-half.  It  is  again  in  the 
upward-tide,  and  with  it,  rise  its  sister- 
cities.  But  it  must  be  conservative.  It 
had  its  rich  men  by  great  counts — over 
night  they  became  poor.  Bricks  then 
Were  $10  and  $12  per  thousand,  and  now 
they  are  $6 — -and  bricklayers  had  $5  and 
$6  wages,  now  they  are  pleased  with  $3 — 
and  so  the  gradation  runs.  From  a 
Union  Employment  Co.'s  board  I  take 
the  following—'  Wanted  !" — dishwasher, 
good  place— timber-feller,  pay  every  week 
— good  man  for  ranch,  $20  per  month — 
facket  seller — berry-picker,  long  job — 
hook  tender,  good  wages — 10  saw-mill 
men,  $1.50  per  day — cook  for  small  crew, 
male  or  female — 2  milkers,  wages  $20  to 
$25  per  day— wood  choppers,  1 6-inch 
wood,  70  cents  cord,  tools  furnished — 
head  sawyer,  good  wages — knot  sawyer, 
10  cents  per  thousand — swamper  and 


to  Alaska.  73 


barker,  $1.75  per  day — skid  headman, 
steady  work — cord  wood  cutter,  75  cents 
per  cord — 5  brick  yard  laborers,  $i.po 
per  day  and  board — 3  sailors  for  coasters, 
$30  per  mos.  — hoke  tender  for  a  donkey 
or  woods,  $2-$2.5<D  per  day — man  and 
wife  to  take  charge  of  a  kitchen  in  coun- 
try, $60 — &c.  This  is  the  keynote  of 
prosperity  in  the  far  West  in  this  day — I 
do  well  to  displease  those  who  have  the 
pride  to  conceal,  but  I  may  please  them 
to  say  the  West  was  most  wonderful  in  the 
past,  and  wilLbe  a  greater  wonder  in  the 
future.  Go  West — but,  young  man, 
wait.  Now,  I  board  the  ''Queen" — 
and  until  another  letter  I  will  have  re- 
turned to  Tacoma  from  Alaska. 


SAILING  UP  THROUGH  PUGET 

SOUND  ON  THE  STEAMER 

QUEEN. 

X. 

METLAKALTA,  ALASKA,  JULY  30,  1895, 
We  boarded  the  '  *  Queen  ' '  on  the 
evening  of  the  26th,  and  next  morning  at 
4  o'clock  she  started  on  her  long  journey 
for  Alaska.  A  right  royal  boat  she  is  ;, 
she  flashed  with  electric  lights,  and  mir- 
rored roomy  reflections,  and  posed  in 
luxuriant  grace,  as  if  she  really  were  of 
queenly  origin.  But  we  did  not  know  all 
her  elegance  of  style  and  all  the  resources 
of  her  disporting  charms,  until  we  saw  her 
glide  amid  the  narrows,  dance  over  the 
wider  sounds,  and  leap  the  crested  waves. 
After  leaving  Tacoma  and  Seattle  we 
touched  by  Victoria,  in  her  Majesty's 
dominion,  and  then  sailed  off  into  the  un- 
explored lands  of  the  North.  Some  one 
has  said  if  you  would  see  Europe  to  ad- 
vantage, visit  Paris  last.  London  is  mas- 
sive, Berlin  is  beautiful,  but  Paris  is  mag- 
nificent. It  may  be  said,  with  equal  ap- 


to  Alaska.  75; 


propriateness,  of  your  travels  in  America 
— take  the  Alaskan  trip  last.  At  this 
writing  we  have  had  four  days'  voyage 
out,  and  the  panoramic  grandeur  of 
scenery  is  working  up  to  overpowering 
climaxes.  Nowhere  have  I  seen  such  un- 
interrupted combinations  of  mountain  and 
sea  and  sky-beauty  !  For  700  miles  noth- 
ing but  the  sea-mirrored  reflection  of 
mountains,  capped  with  everlasting  snow, 
and  wreathed  about  with  fantastic  clouds. 
At  early  dawn  these  milky  chariots  of  the 
heavens  are  lowered,  and  they  hang,  some 
like  the  outflow  of  morning  censors,  and 
some  like  a  suspension  bridge  reaching 
down  over  the  glassy  waters  from  ridge  to 
ridge.  Fish  leap  to  catch  a  glimpse  of 
the  passing  boat,  whales  spout  with  foun- 
tain streams  to  signal  their  pleasure,  sea- 
gulls and  wild  ducks  disturb  their  resting- 
places  in  widening  circles,  the  eagle  soars 
aloft  in  lonely  majesty — and  all  along,  for 
hundreds  .of  miles,  there  is  never  a  sign  of 
a  human  being. 

.THE    LIFE    ON    BOAT. 

Of  course  half  of  the  pleasure  of  such 
a  Jong  voyage  lies  in  the  social  life  on 
board.  I  must  say  that  this  is  complete. 
The  passengers  are  of  the  highest  walks, 


76  Through   Wonderland 


in  life,  and  the  boat,  in  the  appointments 
of  its  state-rooms,  social  halls  and  dining 
salon,  admits  of  comfort  and  the  display 
of  some  luxury.  When  icebergs  float  by, 
and  snow-capped  peaks  look  down  upon 
you,  furs  and  costly  robes  are  indicators  of 
the  wealth  about  you.  The  purser  has  in- 
cluded me  in  his  coterie  of  guests  for  the 
second  call  to  meals.  The  gong  peals  at 
eight  and  nine  o'clock  for  breakfast  ;  at 
one  and  two  o'clock  for  luncheon,  at  five 
and  six  o'clock  for  dinner.  To  my  left 
sits  a  rich  San  Francisco  banker  and  gold 
mine  owner  ;  to  my  right  are  located  two 
young  misses  who  are  finishing  their  semi- 
nary schooling  by  extensive  travels  ; 
:across  the  table  a  family  of  the  richest 
California  land-owner  graces  the  table. 
Wit  and  learning  flow,  but  really  no  wine. 
There  are  railroad  magnates,  representa- 
tives of  the  navy  and  army  and  press, 
judges,  lawyers,  professors,  artists  and  the 
clergy  ;  and  besides  care-worn  capitalists, 
there  are  the  mere  pleasure-seekers  of  the 
higher  social  world.  Most  observed  of 
them  all  is  John  W.  Mackay,  of  the  Ben- 
nett-Mackay  cable  fame,  who  has  the 
shadow  of  $40,000,000  resting  on  his 
brow.  He  is  a  right  genial  Irishman  to 


to  Alaska.  77- 


meet,  who  worked  himself  up  from  a  San 
Francisco  saloon  to  refinement  and  a 
fortune.  He  wears  a  $15  suit  of  clothes, 
generally  takes  a  $3.50  room  at  the  hotel, 
whilst  Mrs.  Mackay  lives  in  her  Paris  and, 
London  palaces,  entertaining  with  costly 
splendor  the  Prince  of  Wales  and  his  ex- 
alted kind.  Considering  his  family  com- 
forts— Behold  !  what  millions  can  buy, 
and  what  they  cannot  buy. 

The  second  day  out  was  Sunday,  and 
the  captain  pressed  me  into  service  for  re- 
ligious worship.  The  social-hall  looked 
down  into  the  dining  salon,  and  in  it 
stood  my  pulpit,  covered  with  the  Ameri- 
can flag.  My  audience  was  distinguished, 
my  sermon  was  touching,  and  the  whole 
service  was  the  binding  together  of  hearts 
of  all  States  in  one  faith  and  prayer.  A 
mother  interrupted  her  little  daughter's 
Sunday-night  prayer.  She  related  the  in- 
cident to  me  next  morning.  The  child 
bent  on  all  fours  before  her  rocking  berth,, 
the  mother  appeared  upon  the  scene,  and 
volunteered  to  say — it  was  not  necessary 
to  be  that  humble.  The  facetious  child 
answered — 4<Oh!  I  must  do  it,  I  don't 
think  God  anyhow  pays  much  attention 
to  us  out  here. ' '  After  awhile  she  addedi 


7 8  Through  Wonderland 

* '  Mother,  it  was  very  rude  of  you  to  in- 
terrupt God  and  me." 

LANDING    AMONG    THE    SIWASH    INDIANS. 

•  What  a  stretch  of  land,  where  the  foot 
of  the  white  man  never  trod  !  Only  the 
Siwash  Indians  dwell  along  here,  and  at 
intervals  of  several-  hundred  miles  ply 
their  graceful  canoes,  giving  an  indication 
of  human  habitation.  A  fierce,  blood- 
thirsty race  are  the  Siwashes,  but  at  points 
along  the  coast  civilization  is  waving  its 
transforming  wand  over  them.  As  an 
•evidence  of  what  can  be  done,  the  steamer 
lands  us  at  New  Metlakahtla.  Here  the 
famous  English  missionary,  William  Dun- 
can, operates  upon  the  Siwashes.  For 
upwards  of  thirty-six  years  he  skirmished 
up  and  down  these  waters,  and  only  eight 
years  ago  he  founded  this  enterprising 
Indian  village.  For  one  hour  I  sat  with 
him  in  his  carpetless  home,  and  the  story 
of  his  consecration,  industry  and  self- 
sacrifice,  would  be  interesting  to  tell.  Be- 
sides schools  and  a  church,  he  started  a 
cannery  for  the  livelihood  of  his  adopted 
people.  Now,  it  is  interesting  to  see  the 
process  of  putting  up  800  cans  of  fish  in  a 
day.  Two  row-boats  just  arrived  by  the 
•wharf  with  a  day's  haul,  and  over  2,000 


to  Alaska.  79 


salmon,  of  12  to  30  pounds  each,  are 
thrown  on  the  landing,  like  so  many 
blocks  of  wood.  One  of  the  Indians 
tallies  on  the  slate,  and  a  round  $160  is 
credited  to  the  two  crafts  for  the  day's 
toil.  I  never  in  my  life  saw  such  a  pile  of 
fish  !  The  salmon  are  cut  into  bits,  put 
into  pint  tin-cans,  set  on  iron  crates, 
wheeled  into  boiler  steamers,  taken  out 
sealed  and  labeled,  and  sent  into  the  marts 
of  the  world.  It  is  all  the  work  of  Mis- 
sionary Duncan.  He  teaches  these 
savages  the  way  to  Christian  civilization 
by  church,  school  and  trade.  He  has  or- 
ganized his  people  into  a  strict  govern- 
ment, and  keeps  down  the  savage  out- 
break by  rules  they  subscribe,  enforced 
by  a  council  and  police  of  their  own  peo- 
ple. He  accompanied  me  to  the  wharf, 
and  there  this  rosy-cheeked,  white-haired 
missionary  of  63  years  stood,  the  peer  of 
manhood  among  all  the  passing  pilgrims. 
As  the  boat  left,  he  received  a  parting 
ovation,  and  twelve  Siwash  Indians  ren- 
dered the  Star  Spangled  Banner,  as  well 
.as  some  bands  can,  the  passengers  sing- 
ing it  in  time  as  they  floated  away. 
What  consecration  !  What  love  for  God 
and  man  !  Thirty-six  years  in  these  wilds, 


80  Through   Wonderland 

laboring  for  the  salvation  of  savage  souls  \ 
And  he  truly  loved  these  children  of  the 
forest — for  he  left  them  never,  and  they 
love  him  too.  Into  his  mouth  I  put  the 
words  as  I  parted  : 

"  I  live  for  those  who  love  me, 

For  those  who  know  me  true, 

For  the  Heaven  that  smiles  above  me, 

And  awaits  my  spirit  too. 

For  the  wrong  that  needs  resistance, 

For  the  cause  that  lacks  assistance, 

For  the  future  in  the  distance 

And  the  good  that  I  can  do." 


DOWN  IN  THE   GOLD    MINES    OF 
THE  ALASKAN  ISLANDS. 

XL 

JUNEAU,  AUGUST  i,  1895. 
How  strangely  impressed  you  are  as 
you  sail  through  the  labyrinthian  waters  of 
Alaska  !  Elements  of  grandeur  inspire 
you,  a  sense  of  weirdness  awes  you — but 
through  it  all  comes  the  siren  song  of  gold, 
gold  !  Instinctively  man  looks  down, 
not  up.  He  is  no  longer  spell-bound  by 
scenery,  but  driven  by  the  prospector's 
genius  for  the  buried  nuggets  of  a  dreamer's 
riches.  What  will  a  man  not  risk  when 
he  has  the  gold  fever  on  him  ?  Up  and 
down  this  wild  coast  many  a  "  French 
Pete ' '  is  driving  his  pick  in  mysterious 
silence  ;  and  as  alone  he  finds  his  ledge  of 
yellow  quartz,  his  heart  stops  to  beat  for 
joy.  He  is  willing  to  share  the  Indian's 
wigwam,  until  these  snowy  mountain  sides 
have  yielded  him  city  palace,  civilized 
luxuries  and  the  power  of  capital.  Mean- 
while, behold  these  mining  villages,  these 
miry  streets,  these  squalid  huts  !  De- 


$2  Through   Wonderland 


prived  of  congenial  companionships,  and 
the  common  comforts  of  home,  a  man  will 
work  his  claim  for  half-a-life-time — and 
then  come  back  to  the  world  from  his 
exile.  How  well  has  Hood  exclaimed — 

"  Gold,  gold,  glittering  gold, 

Hard  and  yellow,  bright  and  cold  !" 

I  paid  a  visit  to  the  Treadwall  gold 
mine  on  Douglass  Island.  Here  is  a 
crushing  mill  of  240  stamps,  the  largest  in 
the  world.  Mr.  John  Treadwall,  pros- 
pecting in  this  region  purchased  a  claim, 
he  staked  off,  for  the  sum  of  $400 — now 
it  yields  an  output  of  $100,000  per  month. 
It  is  really  the  first  wild  throb  of  active 
habitation  that  you  feel  up  here,  when  the 
booming  of  the  dynamite  charges  plays 
over  the  waters,  and  the  rattle  of  ma- 
chinery resounds  along  the  ravines.  It  is 
interesting  to  follow  the  process.  You  are 
led  through  deep  tunnels  with  tallop-dips  ; 
from  the  mountain -side  the  ore  is  blasted  ; 
up  through  mysterious  channels  it  is 
hoisted  ;  dropped  down  a  slide  into 
crushers  which  grind  one  ton  a  minute  ; 
pulverized  under  stamps  ;  washed  over 
agitated  troughs  ;  separated  on  canvas 
grates  ;  mixed  with  chemicals,  heated  ; 
•cooled,  amalgamated  and  at  last  brought 


to  Alaska.  83 


to  the  shining  heap  of  pure  bricks — little, 
but  mighty — $600  a  handful.  On  to  the 
Yukon  river !  is  the  gold  cry  now,  in 
Alaska. 

WITHIN  THE  HOMES  OF  NATIVE  ALASKANS. 

At  Fort  Wrankle  you  will  find  the  very 
best  samples  of  the  home  life  of  the  native 
Indian.  Here  he  dwells  in  the  deserted 
log  huts  of  the  disappointed  miner,  skirt- 
ing the  banks  of  the  inlet  in  a  half  circle. 
When  the  boat  anchors  by  the  crude 
wharf,  it  is  the  event  of  the  year.  The 
squaws  are  out  and  have  settled  themselves 
in  groups  of  six  and  more  on  dilapidated 
porches  and  are  seated  in  the  posture  of 
the  lower  animal — the  monkey.  Very 
picturesque  they  look  in  their  gaudy 
blankets  of  red,  blue  and  striped  ;  their 
varied  colored  head-dress  drawn  over 
raven  hair  and  dark  complexions,  and 
their  curios,  baskets  and  trinkets  spread 
out  before  them.  The  tourist  buys  tokens 
from  them — they  set  a  price,  and  with  a 
sullen  shake  of  the  head,  refuse  to  be 
driven  from  their  price. 

Alas  !  what  a  home-life.  One  room,  as 
complete  in  its  appointments  and  finish  as 
the  farm  wood  shed.  Can  I  describe  it  ? 
If  it  had  only  a  suggestion  of  orderliness,  I 


84  Through   Wonderland 


might  begin  and  end  somewhere.  It  has 
a  roof,  however,  and  it  is  charred  by  the 
log  fires.  Double  doors,  like  to  your 
trap-doors,  open  in  the  centre  of  the  roof 
according  to  the  direction  of  the  wind. 
On  the  ground  floor,  and  in  the  centre  of 
the  room — or  the  house — is  the  fire  place. 
Above  it  and  around  it  is  built  a  frame- 
work of  sticks,  and  salmon  are  suspended 
on  it  to  smoke,  while  the  house  is  at 
warming.  Lines  are  stretched  to  one  side, 
and  a  kind  of  sausage,  and  a  series  of 
hides,  and  dried  eagle  skins  are  hung  on 
it.  Wood,  snow-shoes,  wash-basin,  knives, 
rags,  cans,  stones,  fishing-nets  and  hunt- 
ing paraphernalia,  old  refuse,  etc.,  orna- 
ment the  corner.  A  box  serves  as  the 
breakfast  table,  and  the  pans  and  dishes 
are  unwashed  of  yesterday  or  last  year. 
The  Siwash  squaw  sits  inside  the  door,  ape- 
like on  the  floor,  and  greets  you  as  your 
domestic  animal  would  when  you  open  the 
barn  in  the  morning.  She  chatters  with 
the  gutteral  clatter  of  black  teeth  to  her 
liege  lord,  who  cozily  looks  at  me  from 
his  bed  and  grins  !  What  a  bear.ty  ! 
— His  bed  looks  as  if  it  had  been  drawn 
through  a  coal  sieve.  I  pantomime  my 
conversation  very  pleasantly  —  and  he 


To  Alaska.  85 


grins  some  more.  He  yawns  and  stretches 
his  paws  aloft — and  his  six  dogs  by  his 
side  also  yawn  and  stretch  themselves. 
What  savage  complacency  !  Shades  of — 
Chilcat  !  He  is  going  to  get  up.  Some 
lady-tourists  are  coming  this  way  at  early 
morning,  and  a  Siwash  Indian  and  his  dog 
are  equally  innocent  of  society  toilet.  I 
wager,  if  he  washes  at  all,  he  will  use  the 
boiling-pan  and  wipe  himself  off  on  one  of 
the  smoked  salmon. 

HOW     THE     GOSPEL     LIFTS     THE     INDIAN. 

Lazy  lout  ! — I  said.  In  the  natural 
.state  the  squaw  does  all.  Only  the  Gospel 
influence  dispels  the  Indian's  fancy  of 
work  as  being  degrading,  and  he  becomes 
an  industrious  man  when  reared  to  the 
character  of  a  Christian.  The  squaw  is 
the  corner-market  of  woodland  truck. 
She  sells  the  fresh-caught  fish,  salmon, 
berries  and  huckleberries  and  skins.  She 
is  dressed  in  her  best,  and  rivals  the 
giddiest  city-belle  in  the  variety  and  num- 
ber of  her  rings.  In  her  lower  lips  she 
has  slipped  ornates  of  ivory  and  silver, 
and  the  size  of  them  indicates  her  rank. 
The  grave-yard  is  a  sad  and  silent  spot  on 
the  mountain  side.  It  is  marked  by  sticks 
that  flaunt  peculiar  flags,  and  the  totem- 


86  Through  Wonderland 

pole  rises  over  the  branch-covered  tomb. 
In  the  wild  state,  the  body  is  cremated,, 
and  the  ashes  placed  in  some  orifice  by 
the  side  of  the  Indian  trunks  and  personal 
effects,  which  go  with  his  spirit  to  the 
other  world.  Longfellow  speaks  of  it — 

"  And  they  painted  on  the  grave  posts 
Of  the  graves  yet  unforgotten, 
Each  his  own  ancestral  totem 
Each  his  symbol  of  his  household, 
Figure  of  the  bear  and  reindeer, 
Of  the  turtle,  crane  and  beaver." 

The  totem-pole  is  one  of  the  greatest 
curiosities  of  the  Alaskan  homes.  It  is  a 
carved  trunk  of  a  tree,  planted  in  front  of 
the  hut,  fifty  and  eighty  feet  high,  and  is 
symbolical  by  its  different  figures,  and 
highly  significant  by  its  surmounting  image 
of  the  eagle,  wolf,  bear  or  whale.  It  is 
the  gorgeous  insignia  of  Alaskan  nobility , 
and  this,  together  with  the  Indian  doctor, 
has  the  most  weird  and  fantastic  history 
of  all  the  customs  of  the  natives.  We 
will  enlarge  upon  them  more  on  another 
occasion. 

At  Juneau,  I  secured  some  original 
essays  of  Indian  scholars  in  the  mission 
school.  It  is  indicative  of  the  aptness  of 
the  savage,  and  of  the  mental  powers  that 
lie  dormant  in  them.  The  one  is  of  a  na- 


To  Alaska.  87 


tive  girl,  and  has  very  original  ideas  on 
the  good  of  *  *  school  life. ' '  The  other  is 
a  boy's  letter,  of  one  year's  training,  and 
reads  as  follows  : 

CHILCAT,  Alaska,  April  8,  1895. 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND  : 

I  will  tell  you  what  I  think  all  time.  Father  says  9 
years  old  me.  I  thank  you  for  you  pa}'  for  me  my 
teacher  says.  My  uncle  says  I  have  to  stay  here  20  j'ears. 
I  don't  want  more  than  five  years  ;  my  father  is  dead  so 
I  have  no  home.  My  sister  says  "  Dont  anywhere  go 
you,  just  in  mission  stay  you."  My  sister  says  when 
five  year's  gone  next  five  years  more  I'll  stay. 

I  am  trying  to  get  to  the  Third  reader,  I  hard  study 
me  my  second  Reader.    I  am  a  little  boy,  but  I  just  try  to 
know  something  moro  so  good  man  me. 
Good-bye, 

JOHNNIE  JOHNSTON. 

Our  boat  turns  away  from  Juneau,  the 
metropolis  of  Alaska,  of  3,000  inhabi- 
tants. We  will  reach  Chilcat  to-night, 
the  most  northern  point  of  our  route — the 
Greenland  icy  mountain  latitude.  It  is 
hard  for  me  to  know  when  to  go  to  bed 
and  when  to  rise — for  at  n  p.  m.  it  is 
daylight  and  at  i  and  2  a.  m.  it  is  day- 
break, if  you  may  so  style  it — the  land  of 
the  midnight-sun. 

Now  to  the  westward  we  espy,  above 
the  clouds,  the  loftiest  mountains  of 
Alaska.  On  my  school-boy  map  St. 
Elias  was  the  only  name  for  this  northern 
land.  But  since  then  Mt.  Wrangle  has 


Through   Wonderland 


outstripped  it,  and  rivals  Mt.  Logan,  at 
19,000  feet,  to  be  the  highest  peak  in 
America.  Before  me  loom  up  Mt.  Cril- 
lon,  16,000,  and  Mt.  Fairweather,  15,500 
and  Mt.  Lituya,  11,000,  and  Perouse, 
15,000  feet  high — a  grand  sight  to  behold. 

High  up  from  out  the  waters, 

Far-reaching  to  the  sky, 
Grandly  from  the  mainland 

Right  glorious  greet  the  eye, 
Four  sharp-peaked  snowy  monarchs, 

Clothed  full  in  light  array, 
Fairweather's  three  companions  stand, 

To  hail  the  dawn  of  day. 


AN  EVENING  WITH  THE  GOVER- 
NOR OF  ALASKA  AT  SITKA. 

XII. 

SITKA,  ALASKA,  AUGUST  3,  1895. 
At  last  we  have  come  to  Sitka- — the 
capital  of  Alaska.  The  boat  sails  among 
a  thousand  islands,  and  suddenly  emerges 
to  bring  to  notice  this  picturesque  little 
town.  A  cultivated  plateau  of  grass  is 
pleasing  to  the  eye  up  here,  and  just  be- 
yond the  wharf,  the  open  commons  of 
green  smiles  a  welcome  to  us.  We  move 
out  by  the  main  street,  and  all  along,  on 
the  wet  grass,  the  Indian  natives  are 
squatted  under  tents,  displaying  their 
wares  and  curios — a  Midway  Plaisance. 
A  mackintosh  is  a  much  needed  article  of 
clothing  in  this  capricious  latitude — the 
clouds  weep  almost  daily.  But  it  is  to  be 
expected — and  the  elements  are  braved 
every  time  by  the  Alaskan  tourist.  Sitka 
is  a  great  point  of  interest.  It  has  a 
history  in  Russian  government,  and  land- 
marks of  Russian  architecture  are  to  be 
found  in  it.  Baron  Baranoft's  castle  is 


90  Thiough   Wonderland 


burned — but  the  church  of  the  Greek 
hierarchy  is  here,  to  attest  by  its  internal 
gorgeousness  and  paintings,  of  the  past 
luxury  and  display.  You  can  spend, 
with  much  profit,  an  entire  day  in  a  visit 
to  the  Presbyterian  industrial  schools  for 
Indians,  to  the  Museum  of  Native  curiosi- 
ties, to  the  weird-like  graveyards,  and  to 
Princess  Thorn,  a  squalid  Indian  woman, 
who  is  reputed  to  be  worth  £20,000. 

THE    LUTHERAN    CHURCH    OF    SITKA. 

My  highest  delight  in  the  short  stay  at 
the  Alaskan  capital,  however,  lay  in  rescu- 
ing the  last  hope  of  Lutheran  rights 
there,  and  in  unearthing  a  chapter  of 
church  history  in  Russian  American,  which 
I  will  have  in  shape  to  preserve  in  our 
home-archives.  It  had  been  intimated  to 
me  before  reaching  the  place  that  the 
museum  contained  the  relics  of  a  once 
flourishing  congregation  at  Sitka.  I  de- 
termined to  make  it  my  first  duty  to  dis- 
cover all  about  it.  I  soon  found  a 
Lutheran,  a  Mr.  Peter  Callson,  and  he 
hailed  me  with  delight.  He  informed  me 
that  a  lot  is  all  that  remained,  and  that  it 
was  now  entangled  in  a  litigation.  He 
took  me  to  his  lawyer  and  through  him 
I  traced  up  a  neglected  paper,  which  had 


.t&  Alaska.  gr 

been  written  by. a  faithful,  aged  elder, who 
has  long  gone  to  his  rest.  By  this  paper 
the  history  of  the  Sitka  Lutheran  church 
is  to  be  preserved.  The  building  is  de- 
scribed as  very  unpretentious  in  outside 
appearance  but  richly  decorated  on  the  in- 
side. It  had  an  altar,  decked  with  drapery 
of  valuable  lace,  and  was  adorned  by  an 
excellent  oil  painting  of  the  Ascension  of 
Christ,  now  hanging  over  the  Czar's  door 
of  the  Russian  Greek  church.  The  space 
in  front  of  the  altar  was  separated  from 
the  auditorium  by  a  velvet-topped  balus- 
trade edged  with  fringed  gold  and  silver, 
and  the  church  was  richly  carpeted.  From 
the  ceiling  pended  two  gilt  chandeliers  of 
fine  workmanship — and  it  had  a  fine  organ. 
It  also  had  a  valuable  plate  for  communion,, 
and  a  rich  baptismal  service.  All  this 
valuable  estate  was  partly  derived  from  an 
annual  tax  of  one  per  cent,  on  the  salary 
of  each  member  of  the  congregation,  and 
also  as  gifts  of  two  governors,  members  of 
its  flock.  Captain-  Etholin,  and  Admiral 
F  urn  helm,  the  last  executive  in  Russian 
America.  It  was  Prince  Maksutoff  who 
shipped  all  this  rich  furnishing  from  the- 
old  couriitry.. 


<92  Through   Wonder-land 

The  church  was  once  distinguished  in 
this  place,  and  it  had  from  120  to  150 
.-members.  Governor  Etholin  was  a  native 
-of  Finland  and  a  Lutheran.  He  entered 
-his  office  in  1840,  and  brought  with  him  a 
Lutheran  minister,  Sednyeus  by  name. 
The  church  edifice  was  erected  in  1840; 
-and  the  Sitka  archives  at  Washington, 
*  802- 1 867,  refer  to  it.  The  second 
minister  was  Platen,  and  the  last  Winter. 
In  1857  Rev.  Winter  received  a  gift  of 
•1,200  roubles  from  the  Russian  American 
Company,  and  was  re-engaged  by  them 
for  2,000  roubles  annually.  The  pastor 
was  a  paid  official  of  this  company,  the 
-same  as  any  other  public  man  in  employ. 
He  returned  to  Europe  on  account  of  ill 
health  in  1865,  and  that  closed  the 
Lutheran  pastorate  here.  On  Sunday, 
*the  1 3th  of  October,  1867,  five  days  be- 
fore the  formal  transfer  of  Alaska  to  our 
-country,  the  first  Protestant  service  con- 
*  ducted  by  an  American  was  by  Mr.  Ray- 
ner,  United  States  army  chaplain,  and  the 
congregation  was  composed  of  Russians, 
•Fins  and  natives.  In  this  church  Secretary 
'Seward  made  his  speech  to  the  people  in 
a  self-congratulatory  air  for  the  rich  pur- 
chase he  had  made  for  his  country.  He 


to  Alaska.  93,' 

bought  Alaska  at  the  rate  of  two  cents  an 
acre  ? 

Yet  this  historical  edifice  of  Alaska  has 
been  raised  from  off  the  earth,  and  tourists,, 
who  visit  here,  know  nothing-  of  the 
existence  of  it.  From  1867  to  1877  the 
Catholics  and  the  Protestants  worshipped 
in  it.  But  in  1886  the  building  had  be- 
come a  nuisance  by  neglect,  and  the. 
United  States  Judge  Lafayette  Dawsen, 
ordered  it  to  be  demolished.  So,  the 
organ,  and  pulpit  and  balustrade  found  a 
lodgment  in  the  Shelden  Jackson  museum.. 
I  went  to  hear  the  organ  play  there,  and 
it  is  a  genuine  aristocratic  old  relic,  and 
the  Lutheran  elders  have  done  well  to- 
ll old  a  receipt  for  it.  I  have  asked  Dr. 
Jackson  to  put  a  Lutheran  label  on  it — so 
the  tourists  of  the  world  may  know  to 
whom  this  most  attractive  curiosity  be- 
longs. 

Well,  the  empty  lot,  right  opposite  the 
Greek  church,  and  on  the  principal  street,, 
is  coveted  by  a  business  concern,  and  a 
clerk  has  been  ordered  to  "jump  it  " — 
that  is,  he  put 'on  a  little  board  structure 
to  claim  squatter's  right.  The  30  remain- 
ing Lutherans,  organized  to  dispossess  the 
arrogant  fellow— but  tneY  *eel  discouraged^ 


'94  Through   Wonderland 

I  had  a  letter  of  introduction  to  the  Gover- 
nor from  the  States,  and  my  call  was  the 
mean's  of  enlisting  his  interest  in  the  matter. 
By  the  assistance  of  'the  Recorder  we 
found  the  title  to  be  a  "  fee  simple,"  and 
His  Excellency  and  the  Judge  have  de- 
clared to  summarily  dispose  of  the  matter. 
I  so  reported  to  the  disheartened  flock, 
and  they  repaid  me  by  showing  me  the 
courtesies  of  their  little  Holland  city.  The 
Governor  has  ordered  his  clerk  to  send 
ane  a  typewritten  copy  of  the  valuable 
paper  I  found,  and  I  wiH  have  it  printed 
in  our  religious  journals,  and  preserved  in 
the  archives. 

AN  EVENING  WITH  THE  GOVERNOR  OF 
ALASKA. 

Among  all  my  Alaskan  pleasures,  I 
•shall  consider  the  genial  hospitality  ex- 
tended me  by  Governor  James  Sheakley, 
as  among  the  most  enjoyable.  The  heart- 
felt interest  he  took  in  straightening  the 
Lutheran  affair,  endeared  him  very  much 
to  me — but  the  warm  side  of  his  nature  I 
discovered  more  particularly  in  his  home. 
At  10  o'clock  of  the  evening  he  called  at 
the  "  Queen"  and  invited  me  to  meet  his 
family.  It  is  an  old-time  Russian  cottage, 
where  he  lives,  built  altogether  on  a 


fo  Alaska.  95 


ground  floor  plan.  It  has  low  ceilings,, 
and  has  been  modernized  by  modest  wall- 
paper. An  electric  bell  admits  you  -but 
oil  lamps  light  your  way.  Sitting  in  the 
family  circle,  and  smoking  a  highly 
flavored  Havana  with  His  Excellency,  it 
needed  only  a  blazing  fire- hearth  to  make 
me  think  that  I  was  enjoying  the  hospi- 
tality of  a  cultured  down-east  farmer, 
rather  than  that  of  a  considerably  favored 
official.  The  Governor  gave  me  a  thrilling 
account  of  a  cruise  from  which  he  just  re- 
turned. The  United  States  cutter  lies  by 
the  port,  and  at  his  will,  he  boards  it  to 
inspect  any  part  of  his  domain.  He 
sailed  2,000  miles  to  the  southwest  to 
visit  the  Aleutian  Islands,  and  then  turned 
away  up  to  the  seal  waters — and  waving 
his  hand,  he  proudly  stated  : 

4  k  You  must  remember  I  have  a  large 
country  to  look  after.  Why,  Alaska  has 
600,000  square  miles,  and  would  make 
600  Rhode  Islands.  It  is  a  territory  equal 
to  all  the  States  east  of  the  Mississippi, 
except  Florida  and  Alabama."  It  is  by 
comparison  that  we  get  to  know  a  thing — 
and  I  expressed  my  surprise.  "  But  my 
people,"  he  added,  "are  not  so  exten- 
sive." He  accounts  for  29,644,  of  which 


96  Through   Wonderland 

number  4,298  are  white  people,  1,814. 
mixed  and  23,532  Indians.  At  that  rate 
he  has  about  20  inhabitants  to  every 
square  mile.  Nevertheless,  he  has  a 
troublesome  country  to  rule.  He  has 
4,000  miles  of  sea-coast  and  20,000  miles 
of  shore -line  to  look  after,  with  habitable 
points  300  to  Soo  miles  apart.  His  ac- 
count of  the  seal  islands  was  interesting. 
He  referred  with  regret  to  the  wholesale 
slaughter  that  almost  depleted  the 
rookeries  in  1820,  when  60  vessels,  with 
30  men  each,  entered  Behring  Strait. 
From  the  South  Shetland  islands  alone 
300,000  fur  seals  were  taken,  and  100,000 
newly-born  young  died  in  consequence. 
The  rapacious  greed  of  many  seal-hunters 
leads  them  to  shoot  the  animal  in  the 
water,  and  so  hundreds  of  thousands  have 
been  taken — and  yet  only  one  out  of  every 
seven  is  secured,  for  a  dead  seal  in  water 
sinks.  He  states  that  on  the  Alaska 
rookeries  there  are  at  this  time  4,000,000, 
and  for  fifteen  years  100,000  have  been 
killed  every  year.  4 '  There  are  40  vessels 
at  seal  catching  now,  and  before  long  fur- 
sealing  will  be  a  business  of  the  past. 
But  this  will  be  all  the  better  for  the  high 
grade  wool  trade."  The  Governor  spoke 


to  Alaska.  97 


of  his  position  as  being  a  sort  of  a  patri- 
archal one — he  is  a  father  to  the  native 
Indians.  "They  come  to  me  to  settle 
every  little  dispute  concerning  their  dogs, 
their  family  broils,  and  differences 
generally — my  word  is  final." 

It  was  12  o'clock  of  night  when  I  left, 
and  I  carried  with  me  a  souvenir  of  my 
visit,  by  which  I  shall  always  remember 
the  genial  Governor  of  Alaska. 


ANCHORING     AMONG     THE     ICE- 
BERGS OF  GLACIER   BAY. 

XIII. 

VICTORIA,  B.  C.,  AUGUST  6,  1895. 
At  last  our  boat  is  anchored  under  the 
crystal  bow  of  Muir  Glacier.  It  is  the  one 
point  the  Alaskan  tourist  is  ever  looking 
forward  to.  He  may  grow  wild  with  ad- 
miration over  the  cloud  and  water  scenery 
of  Greenville  Strait  ;  he  may  smile  most 
radiantly  over  the  fantastic  cascades  that 
shoot  down  the  precipitous  heights  of 
McCay's  Reach  ;  he  may  look  with  ador- 
ing awe  upon  the  white  peaks  of  the 
Snow- Passage  ;  he  may  express  his  great 
wonder  at  the  ice-drifts,  Davidson,  Takou 
.and  others — but  he  is  not  overwhelmed 
•with  the  great  marvel  of  nature,  until  he 
rests  his  eye  on  Muir  Glacier.  Words 
cannot  describe  it,  and  one  must  have  a 
picture-representation  to  give  a  compara- 
tive idea  of  its  grandeur.  But  even  then 
you  do  not  have  the  glacier  in  action,  and 
In  the  full  display  of  its  rich  colors. 


to  Alaska^  99 

The  "Queen"  knows  well  how  to  act 
to  give  a  spectacular  effect  to  the  whole 
scene,  and  so  it  drives  close,  recedes,  and 
turns  aside  to  bring  anchorage  at  the  finest 
point  of  view.  Now  the  thermometer  has 
fallen  to  43  degrees — furs  and  blankets  are 
called  to  use  as  the  passengers  parade  the 
deck.  We  have  come  into  a  bay  of  float- 
ing ice,  and  before  us  is  a  wall  of  solid 
crystal  250  to  300  feet  above  the  water- 
line,  720  feet  below  it,  and  nearly  two 
miles  perpendicular  frontage,  and  50  miles 
of  solid  mass  back  of  it,  with  frozen 
streams  of  ice  working  down  from  a  thou- 
sand miles  of  area.  The  story  of  age  is 
buried  here.  How  it  grows  in  immensity 
as  you  linger  under  it — and  your  large 
steamer  dwindles  in  size  before  it  hour  by 
hour. 

THE   GLACIER'S   ETERNAL    FOURTH    OF 
JULY. 

After  I  had  thought  of  this  scientific 
wonder  and  assured  myself  that  it  moves 
from  five  to  seven  feet  per  day,  and  fixed 
myself  on  the  various  theories  of  its  ex- 
istence ;  after  I  had  thoroughly  admired 
the  beauty  of  its  sky  tints  and  inquired 
into  the  causes  of  them — I  turned  my  at- 
tention to  the  pyrotechnic  display  of  the 


ioo  Through   Wonderland 

glacier.  Why,  it  seemed  as  if  a  whole 
city-full  had  been  let  loose  on  the  morning 
of  a  Fourth  of  July — the  sense  of  a  pa- 
triot was  stirred  within  me.  Blocks  of  ice 
broke  off  at  intervals,  by  the  ever-moving 
pressure  from  behind,  and  were  precipi- 
tated into  the  waters  with  a  crash.  Now, 
a  slide  of  particles  falls,  and  the  answer  is 
the  report  of  a  regimental  discharge  of 
gatling  guns  ;  then  a  larger  pinnacle  rolls 
down,  and  it  thunders  and  reverberates  ; 
and  at  last  a  whole  citadel  gives  away, 
tons  in  a  bulk,  topples  over,  and  for  miles 
it  roars  as  if  a  city  were  besieged  by  the 
discharge  of  a  thousand  cannons.  What 
up-heavings  in  the  water  !  Little  moun- 
tains of  ice  are  stirred  from  the  depths, 
and  huge-like  shoot  up  and  down — and 
high  rolling  waves  are  sent  across  the  bay. 
Think  of  it  ! — 1 60, coo  cubic  feet  of  ice 
breaking  off  from  the  facade  every  24 
hours. 

I  often  busied  myself  with  the  fanciful 
Ice  Palace  at  St.  Petersburg,  built  by 
Empress  Annie  in  1740.  with  a  frontage  of 
114  feet,  including  the  pyramids  at  the 
corners.  The  whole  building  appeared  as- 
if  it  were  one  single  piece,  producing  a 
more  beautiful  effect  than  if  it  had  been  built 


To  Alaska.  101 


-of  the  most  costly  marble,  its  transparency 
and  bluish  tint  giving  it  rather  the  appear- 
ance of  a  precious  stone  But  when  I 
saw  the  iceberg,  on  the  evening  of  July 
the  3Oth,  floating  before  the  Takou  glacier, 
towering  80  feet  high,  spreading  600  feet 
wide,  and  burying  640  feet  under  water, 
and  looking  like  a  dream  in  its  shades  of 
delicate  blue,  I  could  well  imagine  how  an 
ice  palace  might  look.  Yet,  what  is  the 
creation  of  an  empress'  fancy  in  ice  by  the 
side  of  such  a  glacier,  where  thousands  of 
turrets  rise  in  crystal  glory,  as  if  the  kings 
of  the  ages  had  built  their  castles  there. 
I  will  pass  along  'til  another  time,  I  can- 
not tell  it  all  just  now.  The  State  Geolo- 
gist of  California,  Prof.  John  Muir,  dis- 
covered this  wonder  in  1879 — and  the 
story  of  it  is  told  by  himself  in  the  Century 
number  of  June. 

CATCHING    HALIBUT    BY    THE    TON. 

I  fear  I  have  several  times  jeopardized 
my  reputation  for  veracity  by  telling  you 
:some  wonderful  fish  stories  from  up  here. 
But  beyond  all  doubt  it  would  set  the  ex- 
pert angler  wild  from  down  there,  if  he 
were  to  see  the  variety  and  abundance  of 
the  finny  tribes  that  disport  in  the  waters. 
You  may  well  imagine  when  800,000  cases 


102  Through   l\  onderland 

of  packed  salmon  annually  go  out  from 
the  fisheries  here,  and  400,000  gallons  of 
herring  oil  are  produced  from  one  factory 
alone.  On  Sunday,  toward  evening  the 
boat  unloaded  salt  in  a  nook  it  never  had 
reached  before.  It,  by  interpretation,  is 
called  the  Four  Months,  because  four 
streams  meet  in  the  bay.  What  a  beauti- 
ful niche  of  nature  it  was  ! — mountains 
shooting  up  to  perpendicular  heights,  close 
by  one  side  of  the  boat  and  a  pine  covered 
island  crossing  it  from  the  other  side,  and 
the  Indians  paddling  their  canoes  from  the 
deep  recesses  through  a  school  of  salmon. 
These  fish  now  go  up  the  streams  to 
spawn,  and  our  boat  sailed  through  their 
trail.  Why  the  water  was  alive  with 
leaping  salmon — ten  pounders  .  by  the 
hundreds  curving  above  the  surface,  like 
the  circus-acrobat,  eager  to  see  what 
monster  had  plowed  into  their  rightful 
domain.  Well,  the  steamer  bulletin  an- 
nounced that  at  6  a.  m.  on  the  morrow, 
we  would  anchor  for  three  hours,  on  the 
Kootznahoo  fishing  grounds  to  engage  in 
the  sport  of  catching  halibut.  Now,  to 
my  knowledge  I  never  saw  a  halibut — 
but  I  resolved  to  be  up  early,  and  bring 
one  to  close  inspection.  I  had  my  morn- 


7<?  Alaska.  103 

ing  coffee,  and  was  one  of  the  first  to  cast 
line  from  my  side  of  the  steamer.  Tre- 
mendous hooks,  and  mackerels  cut  in  two 
for  bait,  make  a  fellow  curious  about  the 
size  of  the  victim.  The  heavy  leader 
goes  overboard  with  a  plunge,  down  fifteen 
fathoms  it  sinks,  and  then  I  hold  the  line 
for  a  feeler.  I  stand  in  an  alert  attitude 
just  for  a  few  minutes,  when  my  arm  is 
rudely  jerked  over  the  balustrade.  I  re- 
spond with  a  vigorous  pull  the  other  way 
and  I  am  assured  that  I  have  got  some- 
thing at  the  other  end — something  worth 
pulling  for.  I  draw  in — and  draw  in, 
then  rest  awhile — there  is  a  fighter  on  the 
line,  keep  it  taut  !  At  last  the  captive 
shines  through  the  water,  and  covers  a 
tremendous  surface.  The  boatmen  on 
duty  ply  to,  and  drive  the  lifting  hook 
into  his  side,  and  kind  him  into  their  craft 
below.  He  measures  3  feet  10  inches  in 
length,  17  inches  across  the  fins  and 
weighs  43  pounds,  the  second  largest 
catch  out  of  2}^  tons  in  three  hours. 
What  an  exciting  time  in  hauling  up  hali- 
but by  the  lady  and  gentlemen  'anglers  of 
the  boat  !  We  raised  anchor,  dined  at  9 
o'clock,  and  had  delicious  flaky  fish  for 
breakfast. 


104  Through   \\onderland 

A   GOOD    SUNDAY    COLLECTION. 

It  was  arranged  for  me  to  preach  the 
second  Sunday  on  board  the  steamer,  but 
when  we  sailed  away  from  Sitka,  on  Sat- 
urday evening,  Rev.  Sheldon  Jackson,  D. 
D.,  General  Agent  of  Education  for 
Alaska,  joined  us  on  his  return  from  a 
three-months'  labor  among  the  Indians. 
He  is  a  thoroughly  consecrated  man,  and 
tells  his  story  in  a  most  charming  manner. 
He  has  been  among  all  the  four  families  of 
native  Alaskans  —  the  Eskimo,  North 
American  Indians,  Thlinkets  and  Aleuts, 
and  tells  most  exciting  incidents  of  then- 
life,  habits  and  conversion.  He,  inci- 
dentally, in  his  discourse,  referred  to  his 
plan  of  establishing  a  new  mission  for  the 
Tongas  and  Cape  Fox  tribes,  who  have  for 
fifteen  years  been  pleading  to  hear  the 
Gospel  like  their  neighbors,  and  to  style 
it  the  Saxman  mission  in  honor  of  the 
drowned  missionary  who  founded  the  place. 
He  said  he  needed  $500,  and  he  proposed 
to  secure  it  down  East  during  the  winter. 
At  the  close  of  the  service  a  few  of  the 
hearers  quietly  suggested  to  me  a  collec- 
tion. I  announced  it  with  a  modest  plea, 
and  to  my  astonishment  the  simple  story 
of  the  Doctor  brought  him  $477.85.  thr^c 


to  Alaska.  105 


parties   giving   each   $100 — and    the    full 
$500  was  made  up  then  and  there. 

Sitting  on  the  deck  with  this  enterpris- 
ing missionary  one  day,  he  told  me  the 
story  of  a  plausible  reindeer  experiment. 
He  discovered  in  one  of  his  visits  to  the 
Arctic  Circle,  that  the  Alaskan  Eskimo 
were  starving.  Missionaries  there,  travel 
over  a  circuit  of  1,000  miles  on  snow  shoes 
to  visit  their  savage  converts.  These 
snow-shut  people  have  lived,  from  time 
immemorial,  on  the  whale  and  walrus. 
But  the  400  whale  ships  plying  their  trade 
there,  have  been  reduced  to  40,  showing 
that  these  sea-animals  are  fast  being  ex- 
terminated. At  one  time  the  food  of  the 
Eskimo  was  abundant,  now  a  walrus  has 
become  a  luxury — how  shall  he  live  in  the 
near  future  ?  In  1890  he  was  delegated  to 
carry  a  $1,000  reward  to  some  Laplanders, 
for  having  rescued  and  succored  three 
United  States  sailors  who  were  wrecked. 
He  then  saw  how  well-cared  for  these  Lap 
landers  were  by  their  dependence  upon 
the  reindeer.  He  found  that  if  a  Lap  had 
a  herd  of  these,  he  had  no  concern  of  the 
world's  millionaires  in  the  outside  world. 
A  reindeer  binds  up  more  of  a  man's 
needs  in  its  life  than  any  other  animal  on 


io6  Through  Wonderland 

earth.  It  is  food — producing  milk,  cheese, 
butter  and  flesh.  It  is  shelter — the  house 
is  built  of  its  skin,  the  bed  covers  made  of 
it  and  the  horns  are  turned  into  handy 
furniture  and  utensils.  It  is  clothing — 
the  skin  is  warmer  than  three  bear  furs, 
and  the  garment  seams  are  sewed  by  its 
sinews.  It  is  transportation — it  draws  a 
sled  100  miles  in  24  hours,  and  can  make 
150  miles.  Now,  Dr.  Jackson  has  con- 
ceived the  idea  that  the  reindeer  is  the 
hope  of  his  Eskimo  children  in  Alaska. 
He  finds  that  360,000  of  them  support 
40,000  Laps  ;  and  he  has  an  area  of  good 
pasturage  that  will  feed  reindeer  to  nourish 
2,000,000  Eskimos.  So  he  heralded  his 
project  through  the  Chicago  and  New 
York  press,  received  a  subscription  of 
$2, 100,  and  by  it  transported  a  herd  1,000 
miles  over  the  sea,  and  is  experimenting 
with  Siberian  and  Lapland  herdsmen  for 
the  future  stocking  of  Northern  Alaska. 
It  has  proven  a  success,  and  he  will  this 
winter  ask  Congress  for  an  appropriation, 
and  at  a  cost  of  $9  per  head  he  will  have 
solved  the  humanitarian  problem  of  saving 
the  Eskimo  from  extinction. 

We  have  now  come  south  again  to  the 
warm  Japanese  current,  and  on  the  morrow 


to  Alaska.  107 

after  thirteen  days  on  board,  we  will  step 
out  of  the  Queen,  with  many  a  regret  for 
the  pleasure  we  leave  behind. 


SIGHT-SEEING  IN  THE  QUEENLY 
METROPOLIS  OF  OREGON. 

XIV. 

PORTLAND,  OREGON,  AUG.  12,  1895. 
After  landing  from  the  Alaska  steamer 
my  face  was  soon  turned  to  Portland. 
Queenly  city  of  the  Pacific  Coast  !  My 
journey  to  it  was  hastened  by  sweetest  an- 
ticipation— the  letters  of  my  friends 
awaited  me  there.  Much  of  our  happi- 
ness is  dependent  upon  so  small  a  thing, 
even  as  a  letter.  It  is  a  cheap  luxury, 
and  yet  the  development  of  its  transpor- 
tation passed  through  three  great  periods. 
From  1790  to  1810,  we  had  20  years  of 
common  roads  and  sail  vessels  ;  from  1810 
to  1830,  we  had  20  years  of  canals  and 
steamboats  ;  from  1830  started  the  rail- 
road system,  and  in  the  first  year  of  post 
office  operations,  we  had  1,905  miles  of 
post- roads,  nine- tenths  of  which  were  on 
horseback  and  the  rest  by  stage  service  ; 
in  1869  we  had  86.308,102  annual  miles  ; 
and  to-day  this  link  of  friendship's  ties, 
this  bond  of  commercial  enterprise,  travels 


to  Alaska.  tog 

from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific,  from  the 
lakes  to  the  gulfs,  for  the  small  considera- 
tion of  two  cents.  How  much  of  our 
World  hangs  by  a  letter  !  and  yet  at  what 
little  cost  the  dear  missive  is  sent  upon  its 
journey  to  greet  us  thousands  of  miles 
away. 

A    CITY    OF    LUXURIANT    BUILDINGS. 

Portland  is  a  city  full  of  pleasant  sur- 
prises. You  do  not  expect  its  kind  in  the 
new  West.  It  is  so  thoroughly  American, 
and  has  the  very  cream  of  an  Eastern 
civilization.  It  is  a  picture  set  in  a  frame 
of  mountain  perspective— it  is  shut  in 
from  the  desert-wastes,  and  it  cultivates 
its  domain  in  a  lavish  outlay  of  luxuriant 
homes  and  artistic  environments. 

It  has  only  70,000  inhabitants,  but  then 
Us  oldest  residents  remember  this  site  by 
the  Willamette  as  a  vast  forest — it  is  very 
young,  and  yet  so  imposing.  An  Easterner 
boasts  of  coming  from  a  city  of  100,000 
people — he  thinks  it  a  very  considerable 
and  consequential  town,  and  so  it  may  be. 
But  when  he  measures  it  with  the  enter- 
prising spirit  of  such  smaller  cities  as 
Portland  he  finds  that  the  new  West 
dwarfs  the  old  East  in  many  of  the  phases 
of  progress.  The  public  buildings  of  this 


no  Through  Wonderland 

city  are  studies  of  art.  The  Chamber  of 
Commerce,  200x100  feet,  costs  $650,000. 
The  Town  Hall  costs  $750,000,  and  the 
other  prospective  municipal  structures  are 
on  the  same  grand  scale.  Its  private  edu- 
cational institutions,  public  school  build- 
ings, homes  and  hospitals,  banks  and 
churches,  and  residences,  and  theatres, 
and  bridges  are  gigantic  and  ornate  in 
their  architectural  realities. 

When  I  think  of  the  very  substantial 
foundation-building  of  a  city  like  Portland 
I  naturally  ask  myself  the  question  why 
my  own  adopted  city  should  be  so  very 
modest  and  unpretentious,  so  painfully 
conservative  in  matters  of  public  improve- 
ment. Here  is  a  city  only  of  two  genera- 
tions, laid  out  in  blocks  of  200x200,  with 
streets  of  perfect  underground  sewerage, 
and  equipments  of  most  recent  discovery 
in  every  department  of  civil  progress — 
and  has  70,000  inhabitants  and  no  more. 
READING'S  HOTEL  AND  LIBRARY. 

Take  such  a  public  necessity  as  a  hotel 
— one  of  the  first  thoughts  of  a  city's 
pride,  and  we  have  nothing  to  compare. 
4 'The  Portland"  is  a  hostelrie  of  lux- 
urious appointments.  The  Auditorium  of 
Chicago  is  more  immense  ;  the  West  of 


to  Alaska.  1 1 1 


Minneapolis  more  costly,  the  Tacoma 
equally  neat — but  this  one  not  only  was 
erected  at  an  outlay  of  $700,000,  but  con- 
tinues to  show  its  royal  good-will  to  the 
traveler,  by  a  most  elaborate  menu,  and 
concerts  of  music,  and  hospitable  sur- 
prises. It  is  the  pilgrim's  rest  between 
San  Francisco  and  the  points  of  the  north. 
All  these  hotels  are  the  creatures  of  stock 
companies — our  city  ought  to  have  a 
hotel. 

These  new  towns  of  the  Northwest  are 
far  in  advance  of  us  in  literary  apprecia- 
tion. The  Portland  Library  is  one  of  the 
chastest  structures  t  have  seen.  It  is  a 
private  gift.  It  has  22,000  volumes  on 
its  shelves,  80  secular  papers,  150  maga- 
zines, and  is  arranged  into  separate  apart- 
ments for  ladies'  and  gentlemen's  reading 
rooms.  It  has  150  perpetual  members  at 
$150  each,  400  transient  patrons  and 
$25,000  in  its  reserve  fund.  The  time  has 
come  at  home  when  the  project  of  a  few 
public  spirited  citizens  ought  to  be  carried 
out — to  convert  our  misplaced  jail  into 
"  The  Reading  Library."  The  prison  is 
a  standard  type  of  architecture,  and  most 
appropriate  as  to  location  and  adaptation.^ 
The  project  would  be  a  most*forcefufctsup- 


H2  Through  Wonderland 


plement  to  all  our  city  schools — -it  would 
be  one  of  the  grandest  moral  and  intel- 
lectual agencies  in  our  midst.  The  news- 
paper of  Portland  is  the  Oregonian,  and 
has  two  prodigies— a  morning  and  an 
evening  issue.  It  is  Republican  for  break- 
fast and  Democratic  for  supper,  and  does 
handsomely  by  both  parties,  for  the  money 
consideration  made  out  of  it.  The  build- 
ing it  owns  cost  $400,000.  Of  course  we 
make  allowance  for  the  comparative  pro- 
gress of  the  two  cities,  Portland  has 
twenty  millionaires,  and  one  just  died 
worth  $21,000,000.  The  records  of  the 
Clearing  House  showed  the  business  of 
1891  to  have  been  $102, 570, 167.36.  The 
exports,  foreign  and  coastwise,  were  $14,- 
000,000.  No  less  than  $75,000,000  is  in- 
vested in  trade  and  industry.  However", 
Portland  also  is  a  panic-ridden  city,  but  it 
never  felt  the  reaction  of  the  boomed 
towns  about  it. 

HOSPITALITY    OF   READING   FRIENDS. 

I  tarried  here  over  Sunday  and  preached. 
One  of  the  pleasant  experiences  of  my  so- 
journ was  the  friendly  hospitality  of  Rev. 
M.  L.  Zweizig,  who  is  the  son  of  the  most 
universally  known  Lutheran  preacher  in 
Berks  county,  *  I  am  pleased  to  speak  of 


To  Alaska.  113 


his  work  here  as  the  model  of  all  mis* 
sionary  work  in  the  West.  There  is  often 
a  mistaken  notion,  prevalent  even  among 
mission  boards,  that  equipment  of  mis- 
sionary enterprise  must  not  necessarily  be 
more  than  ordinary.  There  are  several 
requisites  that  belong  here — >the  kind  of 
man — the  kind  of  church  building.  It  is 
waste  expenditure  to  place  an  inferior  man 
at  these  local  points.  A  good  preacher  is 
required,  having  social  qualities  and  ex- 
ecutive ability,  and  tact.  He  is  to  match 
himself  with  superior  talent  in  other  pul- 
pits, and  he  must  win  people  on  social  and 
humane  grounds.  The  outlook  of  a.  pre- 
tentious church-property  is  to  be  guaran- 
teed. Therefore  more  concentration  of 
mission  money  is  necessary  to  the  cities 
which  are  the  distributing  points  of  peo- 
ple, as  well  as  of  churchly-standing. 
Other  commissions  have  large  edifices — 
and  so  must  you.  The  start  must  be  a 
large  lot— and  the  rest  will  come.  Rev, 
Zweizig,  of  Portland,  has  done  a  good 
work  here  on  the  grounds  just  defined. 
His  sermons  and  public  bearing  have  won 
the  very  best  material  for  his  congregation, 
and  he  has  much  deference  shown  him  by 
outsiders  on  the  street.  His  chapel  and 


1 14  Through  Wonderland 

parsonage  are  built  on  a  valuable  corner- 
lot,  100x100,  in  the  heart  of  the  city,  und 
these  prospective  assurances  of  success 
are,  therefore,  the  shortest  and  cheapest 
cut  to  the  end  in  view. 

As  the  city  was  wrapped  in  the  smoke  of 
the  forest  fires,  I  saw  little  of  its  perspec- 
tive in  nature.  It  rains  not,  from  July  to 
September,  to  clear  the  atmosphere  of 
such  periodical  disturbances — but  then  the 
rest  of  the  time  it  does  nothing  but  rain. 
This  fact  is  material  for  an  all-round  fund 
of  jokes — the  weather,  beastly  wet  and 
solemnly  dry.  The  most  palatial  resi- 
dences are  built  of  frame — brick  and  stone 
would  absorb  the  moisture  in  winter. 
Wood  is  the  fuel.  Pennsylvania  coal  at 
$18  a  ton,  Vancouver  at  $9,  Oregon  at 
$7.50,  are  too  costly  a  luxury.  The  pro- 
fession of  the  old-fashioned  chimney- 
sweep is  therefore  an  established  factor 
here — -a  leather  liberty-cap  singles  him  out 
on  the  street  corner.  Wood  is  piled  up 
in  the  rough  before  houses,  and  steam 
saw-machines  make  the  round  to  cut  it  to 
lengths  at  one  dollar  a  cord,  and  Chinese 
follow  to  chop  it  for  use  at  twenty  five 
cents  a  cord.  The  postman  drops  his 
mail  in  the  door  slot,  and  signals  the  in- 


to  Alaska.  115 


mates  with  a  ball-whistle,  very  gently,  but 
heard  any  time  with  an  exultant  startle. 
The  rounds  of  the  mail-boxes  are  made  by 
a  sort  of  a  chariot  vehicle.  The  postman 
stands  one  foot  from  the  ground,  and  drives 
from  point  to  point,  gathering  the  mail 
into  a  dasher-box  of  his  sulkey.  The 
trolley  company  has  the  contract  of  sprink- 
ling the  streets  along  its  route.  One  of 
its  cars  is  transformed  into  an  ingenious 
sprinkler.  It  speeds  along  and  throws  out 
elbow  spouts  of  a  50 -feet  span,  playing 
like  a  fountain,  drawing  in  the  arms, 
spider-like,  to  escape  wagons,  bicycles, 
etc.,  and  again  throwing  them  out  at  will 
• — all  the  while  speeding  on  and  sprinkling. 

REFRESHED    BY    MARK    TWAIN. 

By  a  courtesy  I  listened  to  Mark  Twain, 
who  filled  the  Marquani  Opera  House  to 
overflowing.  The  inimitable  and  irrepress- 
ible Twain  !  He  is  a  picturesque  man  to 
look  at  on  the  stage,  with  grizzly  hair, 
eyebrow  and  moustache — a  lazy  cynic  in 
the  outflow  of  his  drawling  humor.  He 
talked  90  minutes  and  virtually  said  noth- 
ing— but  the  audience  was  in  a  constant 
roar.  Well,  such  men  are  a  blessing  too 
— for  a  laugh,  breaking  through  a  thick 
cloud  of  trouble,  is  worth  its  weight  in 


Il6  Through  Wonderland 

gold.  Poor  Twain  has  lost  all  his  hard- 
earned  fortune,  $750,000,  and  now  he  is 
on  a  lecture  tour  around  the  world  to  re- 
trieve it.  He  repeats  the  experience  of 
Sir  Walter  Scott— -I  hope  he  may  succeed 
as  well  as  he. 

I  attended  divine  service  in  a  $180,000 
church  on  Sunday  night  —  popular 
preacher,  fine  music.  I  was  not  edified, 
but  I  was  instructed.  It  is  well  often  to 
learn  how  not  to  do  things,  as  well  as  how 
to  do  them.  The  preacher  was  a  decided 
success — but  the  sermon  was  not.  To  en* 
hance  the  spectacular  performance  in  the 
pulpit,  he  announced  at  the  close  of  the 
sermon  that  the  professor  at  the  organ 
would  give  a  scenic  interpretation  of  Moses 
by  the  mount,  and  so  show  to  advantage 
the  beauties  of  the  new  instrument.  The 
electric  lights  were  turned  down,  and  the 
audience  sat  in  darkness,  whilst  the  key- 
board and  professor  only  were  visible. 
The  distant  tramp  of  the  hosts  of  Israel 
soon  were  heard  and  the  trumpet  calls 
gradually  grew  more  and  more  distinct,  as 
the  $10,000  organ  disgorged  it's  stops  one 
by  one.  Now  the  mutterings  of  thunder 
roll  up  fiercely— louder  and  louder  ;  sud« 
denly  the  electric  lights  blink  from  the 


7<?  Alaska.  117 


ceiling  to  imitate  lightning,  and  at  last  the 
concentrated  blast  falls  from  the  skies  ! 
The  notes  die  away,  the  footlights  are 
turned  on,  and  there  the  preacher  stands 
once  more — presto  change  !  He  pulls  out 
his  watch,  wag-like,  and  says — "  I  am 
sorry  I  kept  you  so  long  ;  the  peace  of 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  the  love  of  God  and 
the  communion  of  the  Holy  Ghost  be 
with  you  all— Amen."  Dismissed  in  one 
breath,  like  a  shop-keeper  weighs  out 
snitz  and  throws  them  into  the  basket. 
Pious  ones  said  as  they  passed  out — 
"  sacrilege  !"  The  whole  thing  was  a 
performance — it  was  not  worship.  The 
only  difference  was  that  it  took  place  in  a 
$180,000  church. 


PILOTED  THROUGH  CHINATOWN 
AT  NIGHT  BY  A  DETECTIVE. 

XV. 

SAN  FRANCISCO,  CAL.,  AUG.  16,  '95. 

"The  Golden  Gate  !''  It  is  a  name 
altogether  Scriptural  by  priority — and  its 
spiritual  goodness  is  hardly  applicable  to 
the  worldly  city  of  San  Francisco.  But 
out  there  in  the  bay  of  the  Pacific  two 
jagged  points  almost  meet,  and  they  ad- 
mit of  entrance  from  the  sea  to  this  rich 
habitation  on  the  hills.  At  times  the  sun 
goes  down  in  orbed  splendor  of  fire,  and 
fills  this  gateway  of  water  with  a  dazzling 
sheen  of  gold — and  hence  it  has  come  to 
be  known  as  the  golden  gate. 

I  came  here  by  a  southward  journey, 
and  my  slow-plodding  train  labored  up 
and  down  the  Sierra  mountains  by  night 
and  by  day.  Proud  Shasta' s  snow- 
crowned  head,  reared  14,442  feet  to  the 
clouds,  looked  down  upon  my  trail  'til 
evening  shade — and  then  in  darkness,  my 
view  was  lost  in  buried  ravines  of  tower- 
ing acclivities.  A  little  while  ago  the  en- 


To  Alaska.  119 


gine  puffed  on  the  mountain  tops,  and 
now  it  winds  along  the  base — how  we  got 
down  I  know  not  ;  but  here  we  halt  by 
the  shooting  fountain  of  Shasta  Springs. 
A  little  way  on  is  dangerous  ground — for 
only  a  short  time  before  this  very  same 
train  was  held  up  by  robbers,  and  the 
guests  were  relieved  of  some  of  their 
money.  A  sheriff  was  shot,  and  a  bandit, 
too — except  the  forced  collection  no  other 
incident  occurred.  Now,  in  time  of 
danger,  it  is  well  to  be  forearmed.  I  had 
no  deadly  weapon  to  guard  my  berth,  but 
I  took  the  safeguard  to  prime  my  vest 
pockets  with  a  few  of  Uncle  Sam's  bills, 
for  under  such  surprising  circumstances  it 
is  better  to  buy  off  than  shoot  off.  Day- 
light, however,  brought  the  train  in  safety 
to  the  straits  of  Carquinez,  where  we 
switched  in  sections  on  to  the  largest  ferry 
boat  in  the  world,  and  were  steamed  across 
the  waters — engine,  cars,  passengers  and 
all.  The  boat  is  542  feet  long,  and  carries 
at  one  time  forty-six  freight  cars  and  four 
engines,  or  twenty -four  Pullmans  and  loco- 
motive. 

A  "CITY    OF    ONE    HUNDRED    HILLS. 

When  you  approach  San  Francisco  you 
see  its  streets  spanning  mounds  in  grace- 


I2O  Through  Wonderland 

ful  curvatures  When  you  enter  it  you 
find  it  stately  with  lofty  stone  structures, 
and  full  of  animation,  like  our  Eastern 
New  York  city.  It  has  only  300,000  in- 
habitants, but  it  makes  noise  enough  for 
a  million  of  them.  You  ride  around  it, 
up  and  down  in  it,  and  whether  you  stand 
or  ride,  you  draw  your  overcoat  tightly 
about  you,  for  the  cold  wind  from  the  sea 
cuts  through.  How  undulating  this  city 
when  you  view  it  from  the  built-up  hills! 
The  cable-car  only  can  climb  them,  for 
some  rise  900  feet,  and  as  the  cars  shoot 
down,  you  brace  well  to  hold  your  equi- 
librium. And  up  on  Nob  Hill  are  the  fine 
mansions — Stanford's  and  Crocker's  costly 
homes — yet  they  are  perched  aloft  with 
little  grounds,  and  no  luxury  of  lawn 
reach  out  from  spacious  verandas,  like  in 
the  East.  San  Francisco  surely  had 
come  to  stay  here,  hill  or  no  hill — but  it  is 
a  fortunate  circumstance  that  they  have  no 
winter,  or  else  the  citizens  would  have  to 
skate  down  to  the  shops  ;  and  how  they 
would  ever  get  back  again  we  would  have 
to  leave  to  a  new  discovery  of  necessity. 
Bicycles  are  very  scarce  here — but  the 
cable-car  is  the  almost  universal  lift  to 
these  eyries  of  homes. 


to  Alaska.  121 


There  are  many  points  of  interest  to  the 
tourist — but  it  is  quite  the  thing  to  go  out 
to  the  Cliff  House,  and  the  Seal  Rocks  in 
the  Pacific.  It  is  an  interesting  sight,  to 
watch  400  sea-lions  disporting  in  the 
water,  and  climbing  up  the  rocks  in  their 
wild  state.  They  are  ponderous  things, 
one  weighing  2,000  pounds — and  so  grace- 
fully awkward!  They  are  like  overgrown 
children  at  play  in  swimming,  and  they 
bark  in  terrible  basso-tones — all  the  while 
laboring  up  the  sides  of  the  loftiest  points, 
as  if  they  were  held  to  them  by  suction. 
Passing  by  the  park  and  cemeteries  and 
places  of  art,  I  will  call  your  attention  to 
the  mammoth  hotels. 

The  Palace  is  the  largest  hotel  in  the 
world,  and  the  Grand  connects  with  it  by 
an  overhead  passage-way.  It  is  a  wonder 
to  behold  !  Think  of  it — covering  a  whole 
block  275  feet  front,  350  feet  depth,  hav- 
mg  755  rooms  above  the  ground  floor, 
and  accommodating  1,200  guests.  It 
stands  seven  stories  high,  and  it  took  30,- 
000,000  bricks  to  construct  it — -the  outside 
is  plastered  and  colored.  The  sub-founda- 
tion is  30  feet  wide,  and  every  bed  room 
is  partitioned  off  by  a  brick  wall,  each  has 
a  bath  room,  and  6,000  electric  lights 


122  Through  Wonderland 

flash  through  it.  There  is  an  inside  court 
to  it,  into  which  you  drive  over  a  circular 
asphalt  pavement  and  alight  on  a  marble 
rise,  to  behold  a  dream  of  white  and  gold, 
shimmering  under  twenty  clusters  of  six- 
pair  lights,  around  each  tier,  seven  pillared 
and  fenced-in  tiers,  reaching  to  a  glass 
roof,  through  which  looks  the  sky — all 
white  and  gold  !  Your  sleeping  rooms 
lead  out  to  the  wide  court  veranda,  and 
from  any  story  above  you  can  look  down 
into  this  fairy -like  vision,  where  the  guests 
sit  and  smoke  by  little  wine  tables,  ladies 
alight  from  carriages,  'bus  and  express  go 
and  come — trunks  are  loaded  and  un- 
loaded for  the  passing  pilgrim.  I  never 
sat  down  to  a  table  its  equal  anywhere — 
the  Queen  of  Sheba  herself  would  not  dis- 
claim its  menu,  nor  Solomon,  in  all  his 
glory,  disdain  to  tarry  here.  When  this 
hotel  was  opened  $60,000  worth  of  triple- 
plated  ware  was  bought  to  use  on  the  tables, 
and  now  they  have  $120,000  worth  of  Gor- 
ham's  design.  Everything  comes  in  on 
silver  platters  and  trays,  six  courses,  and 
though  you  have  six  different  knives  and 
forks  and  spoons,  twenty-four  in  all,  to 
use  through  your  meal,  you  verily  use 
them  all,  but  not  all  at  the  same  time. 


to  Alaska.  123 


Well,  that  is  Table  de  Hote  fashion,  of 
course — only  I  want  to  indicate  the 
elaborateness  of  it  here.  When  you 
leave  the  Palace  you  pay  your  bill. 

A  TRIP  THROUGH  CHINATOWN  BY  NIGHT. 

To  the  tourist' s  education  belongs  a  trip 
to  Chinatown — and  by  night.  You  may 
know  that  the  Mongolian  has  fastened 
himself  here  upon  seven  square  blocks, 
the  best  portion  of  the  city,  and  he  can't 
be  dislodged.  Over  20,000  Chinese  peo- 
ple live  here  all  on  a  heap — and  it  is  heap- 
like — factory  operatives,  laborers,  house- 
servants,  laundrymen,  merchants,  store- 
keepers, .  traders,  peddlers  and  idlers. 
There  are  about  2,000  females  among 
them,  and  a  few  children.  A  fair  price 
for  the  importation  of  a  Chinese  woman 
is  eight  hundred  dollars. 

A  safe  detective  was  secured  for  me  by 
a  San  Francisco  friend,  and  off  we  went 
on  our  night  exploration.  I  shall  never 
forget  the  trip.  The  peculiar  lantern- 
lights  lit  up  the  streets  and  alley-ways — 
a  tallow  candle  served  for  the  underground 
passage-ways.  We  visited  the  Joss  House, 
their  god  and  church.  The  tinsel  and 
carving,  and  celestial  glory  of  the  place,  I 
can  hardly  describe.  The  Chinese  ap- 


1 24  Through  Wonderland 

proach  on  their  knees — only  a  few  costly 
chairs  are  along  the  wall.  In  the  middle 
are  three  series  of  oriental  side-board 
arrangements,  leading  up  to  the  highest 
god.  As  you  enter,  the  god  Mongrun 
greets  you,  who  is  a  sort  of  sergeant-at- 
arms,  keeping  watch.  An  ash-vase  and  a 
cup  of  tea  are  before  him  always.  He  is 
supposed  to  drink  the  tea.  A  light  burns 
constantly  in  his  presence.  The  first  altar  is 
a  wonder-work  in  paper  colors  and  carved 
head  design.  Here  sits  the  king,  and  all 
around  him  the  grand  jury.  The  carved 
board  of  the  first  altar  costs  $3,000  ;  of 
the  second  $1,500  ;  a  large  urn  between, 
$3,000,  and  the  duty  to  get  it  from  China 
$4.00  ;  a  bell  to  the  side  is  3,000  years 
old  ;  the  drum,  ton-ton,  above  it,  600 
years  old,  and  the  lost  god,  150  years  old. 
This  deity's  name  is  "Georgie,"  and 
when  he  goes  away  he  takes  his  horses, 
and  the  attendants,  the  battle-axes  and 
shields,  the  wooden  symbols,  of  which  are 
there  by  his  side.  To  get  him  back  the 
drum  is  sounded  three  times.  His  origin 
is  of  4,000  years  ago.  "Little  Jack  ' '  is 
a  side  god,  to  implore  for  good  fortune 
and  to  drive  away  evil  spirits.  He  gives 
lucky  numbers  on  a  draw.  In  the  outer 


to  Alaska.  125 


court,  papers  are  burned  in  a  large  brick- 
oven  to  assure  cures  and  forgiveness  and 
luck.  For  the  privilege  of  entrance  I 
purchased  a  pack  of  tapers,  such  as  they 
use  in  worship,  and  the  priest  assured  me 
that  if  I  lit  them  in  the  house,  each  one 
would  drive  away  a  sickness.  If  any  of 
my  friends  are  indisposed  upon  my  return, 
I  am  willing  to  make  a  charitable  distribu- 
tion of  these  magic  things  for  their  cure. 
I  next  had  an  experience  of  inside  un- 
derground groping  through  passage  ways 
leading  this  way  and  that  way,  up  and 
down,  how  many  times  I  don't  know — 
but  all  the  way,  it  seemed  like  the  hull  of 
an  old  ship,  or  like  the  board-smoked 
windings  of  a  tottering  warehouse,  under- 
mined by  rats.  But  the  guide  opened  a 
door  here  and  there,  and  showed  little 
rooms,  with  mat-covered  bunks,  on  which 
sat  and  smoked  and  chatted  Chinamen. 
The  detective  said — "these  are  actors, 
who  live  here,  and  I  am  leading  you  the 
backway  up  to  the  Chinese  Theatre.  Few 
know  this  underground  way."  Before  I 
was  ready  I  was  landed  behind  the  scenes, 
where  little  fellows  were  practicing  at 
sworcl,  and  older  ones  were  painting  and 
putting  on  gorgeous  attire  for  their  turn  in 


126  Through  Wonderland 

the  play,  and  then  I  looked  on  a  scene  within 
that  was  a  study.  The  men  were  seated  on 
the  main-floor,  hats  on  and  smoking,  the 
females  separated  to  the  gallery,  and  a 
love  scene  enacted  by  two  young  ones — 
the  audience  riveted  with  attention  and 
laughing  at  times.  No  female  is  ever  al- 
lowed on  the  Chinese  stage — the  character 
is  impersonated  by  a  male  who  can  make 
up  well.  What  a  strange  audience  ! 
What  a  strange  performance  !  What  a 
strange  orchestra  seated  on  the  rear  of  the 
stage  !  The  music  was  like  a  cat-concert 
by  night,  and  the  whole  scene  seemed  so 
puerile,  and  yet  so  weird. 

I  next  got  into  a  gambling  place.  The 
Chinese  gambler  is  a  bundle  of  exitement 
as  he  throws  dice  in  the  bowl  of  porcelain, 
not  unlike  the  rice-bowl  set  in  a  dishpan. 
Small  sums  exchange  hands  between  the 
firm  and  the  patron.  This  vice  has  a 
strong  hold  on  the  oriental. 

A  most  interesting  study  was  the  barber 
shop.  As  five  patients  were  under  the 
knife  at  one  time,  I  saw  the  whole  process 
in  all  its  stages  in  a  short  time.  I  would 
write  above  the  Chinese  barber  shop — 
"Tonsorial  artist,"  for  here  the  term  is 
truthfully  applied.  Only  a  common  chair 


to  Alaska.  127 


or  stool  holds  the  customer,  a  bowl  of 
water  sets  close  by,  and  a  towel  dipped  in 
it,  wets  the  skin  for  the  shave.  First  the 
cue  is  dressed  with  a  sort  of  horse  comb — 
beautiful  long  hair,  braided  in  with  the 
switch,  hanging  down  to  the  shoe-top  ! 
Next  a  large  razor  is  laid  on,  over  the 
half  fore- part  of  the  head  and  down  over 
the  face,  nose,  ear,  brow  and  between  the 
eye-brows,  and  over  the  eye-lids.  After 
that  a  second  razor,  like  a  tiny  paper- 
cutter  is  used,  twirled  by  a  round  handle. 
Here  the  dexterous  performance  begins  - 
for  he  shaves  the  inside  of  the  ear  and  up 
the  nostrils  with  this  sharp-cutting  instru- 
ment, and  trims  the  ear  lobe  and  nose  and 
forehead,  and  cleans  the  ears  as  a  finale, 
when  the  barber  makes  his  religious  signs 
over  his  customer.  With  hands  palmed 
he  strikes  his  forehead,  cracks  his  knuckle 
over  right  and  left  shoulder,  jabs  in  the 
shoulder  blade,  twists  the  neck  joint,  first 
right,  then  left — and  embraces  him.  The 
religiously-cleansed  Chinaman  goes  to  the 
bowl,  washes,  and  pays  to  the  clerk. 

IN    THE    OPIUM    DENS. 

Further  on  in  the  rounds  the  guide  lit 
his  tallow- dip  again,  and  announced  that 
we  now  would  go  underground  into  the 


128  Through  Wonderland 

opium  dens.  I  followed,  groping  my 
way,  having  hold  of  his  cane.  Never 
such  a  sight  I  saw  before,  whether  among 
beast  or  man  !  The  tenement  houses  are 
peculiar  in  architecture,  six  or  more  China- 
men occupying  one  room,  located  along 
winding  passageways  up  and  down,  away 
in  from  the  street.  They  are  labyrinthian 
in  mysterious  hidings.  Inside  the  narrow 
courts  are  bake  oven  fire-places.  We 
meet  Chinamen  at  this  late  hour,  kindling 
a  little  fire,  to  cook  their  supper — a  panful 
of  rice,  which  they  eat  out  of  the  pan 
with  two  little  sticks,  manipulated  be- 
tween their  fingers  with  great  skill.  A 
rap  at  the  door — the  guide  opens.  A  room 
8x8,  and  ''Blind  Ann"  lies  huddled  on 
her  mat- bunk — lost  to  the  world  for  twenty 
years.  She  is  65  years  old,  and  a  male 
friend  is  in  to  cook  her  meal.  What  a 
mess  !  We  open  another  door,  and  here 
an  odor  of  the  opium  smoke  announces 
the  den  in  full  blast.  A  little  room  it  is,  all 
that  these  six  Chinamen  have  in  the  world 
after  their  work — only  15x15  feet.  Six 
bunks  are  built  against  the  wall,  three  below 
and  three  above,  like  an  old-fashioned 
potato-bin.  In  each  lies  a  Chinaman,  his 
head  resting  on  a  hollowed-out  stool  for  a 


To  Alaska.  129 


pillow,  a  mat  beneath  him  and  no  cover 
on  top  of  him.  Each  has  a  pipe  as  large 
as  a  flute,  and  just  as  thick  a  mouth-piece. 
The  bowl  is  the  size  of  a  goose  egg,  mid- 
way between  the  stem,  with  a  solid  lid  on 
top  and  a  tiny  hole  in  the  centre  of  it.  A 
spectre-like  lamp  burns  in  each  bunk, 
close  by  the  head.  Tiny  vases  stand 
within  reach,  and  a  larger  one,  for  the 
opium  in  its  raw  state.  With  an  instru- 
ment, the  size  of  a  knitting-needle,  he  dips 
into  the  vase,  then  holds  the  point  into 
the  flame  of  the  lamp  and  brings  the  hot 
lump,  as  large  as  a  pea,  to  the  hole  in  the 
lid,  punctures  it  down,  all  the  time  work- 
ing the  needle  and  smoking.  And  so  he 
repeats  the  process  every  minute  or  two, 
from  8  o'clock  to  2  of  night,  when  his 
nerves  are  paralyzed  and  he  sinks  into 
sleep  and  sweet  dreams.  The  old  man  in 
the  lower  bunk  is  25  years  at  the  habit, 
but  his  cheeks  are  sunken  in  and  his 
earthly  bliss  is  soon  over. 

What  a  ghostly  picture  this  was  !  Lowly 
burned  those  six  lights,  just  casting 
enough  red  glow  around  to  show  fixed 
eyes  staring  at  us,  and  dim  forms  outlined 
in  dead-like  posture.  They  suck  the  pipes 
in  gurgling  sounds,  as  if  sipping  the 


130  Through   Wonderland 


sweetest  cider,  and  the  dive  fills  with 
smoke  and  odor  thicker  and  louder.  To 
me  it  is  suffocating  now — how  will  the  at- 
mosphere be  at  2  o'clock  of  morning. 
Yet  in  it  they  breathe  and  live,  night  in 
and  night  out,  all  the  year.  This  is  one 
dive — I  visited  many — and  all  is  sad  be- 
yond description.  Even  white  boys  and 
men  have  contracted  the  habit.  They  are 
styled  "dope  fiends" — and  they  steal 
here  for  their  cheaper  enjoyment.  Once 
started,  the  road  down  is  assured.  More 
experiences  of  that  night  exploration 
tempts  my  pen — but  not  now.  It  was  i 
o'clock  when  the  guide  conducted  me  safe 
to  my  hotel — but  the  horrors  of  the  fallen 
pit  were  upon  me  in  sleep. 


BEHOLDING   THE    WONDERS    OF 
THE  YOSEMITE  VALLEY. 

XVI. 

WAWONA,  CAL.,  AUGUST  24,  1895. 

The  Yosemite  has  long  since  beckoned 
me  with  a  siren  song.  The  scenic  wonders 
have  charmed  me  in  pictures  and  poetry 
— and  I  longed  to  place  my  feet  beneath 
those  water-falls,  and  look  up  to  those 
mighty  peaks.  And  I  have  been  there, 
and  one  of  the  dreams  of  my  life  has  been 
realized.  Nor  did  I  expect  too  much — I 
have  seen  the  crowning  grandeur  of  moun- 
tain scenery  in  America. 

The  sleeper  from  San  Francisco  is  side- 
tracked at  Raymond,  and  at  early  morn- 
ing you  are  awakened  to  take  the  stage. 
Four-in-hand  stand  ready  for  you,  and 
under  the  crack  of  the  whip,  you  start  out 
for  a  75-mile  ride.  Now,  if  you  are  overly 
fastidious,  I  would  advise  you  to  step  out 
and  continue  your  journey  the  other  way 
— for  if  you  mean  to  see  the  Yosemite  you 
must  be  content  to  put  up  with  some 
severe  hardships.  The  stage  rumbles 


132  Through   Wonderland 


over  mountain  acclivities,  and  by  the  time 
you  have  returned,  you  will  have  had  six- 
teen relays  of  horses,  and  sixty-four  fresh 
steeds  have  carried  you  through.  Now 
you  are  up  6,500  feet,  and  then  down 
again  in  the  valley,  and  so  it  takes  new 
sinew  and  fresh  wind  every  short  stretch 
for  the  horses  to  carry  you  on.  The  two 
hotels  in  this  isolated  Valley  of  the  Sierras 
are  very  considerable  in  their  pretense, 
and  the  weary  traveller,  when  dusted, 
rested  and  fed,  takes  his  tallow  dip  and 
goes  early  to  bed.  How  sweet  the  sleep! 

ON    THE    SIERRA    RANGE. 

There  are  many  pleasant  diversions  by 
the  way.  First  of  all  there  is  the  driver 
by  whose  side  you  may  sit,  on  the  box. 
He  is  an  artist  of  his  kind.  With  what 
expert  daring  he  swings  his  horses  around 
the  curves  of  those  dizzy  heights  ! — you 
hold  on  to  your  seat  and  trust.  But  he 
has  been  at  his  business  for  eighteen  years, 
and  he  is  perfect.  The  jagged  mountain- 
scenery  interests  you,  as  in  fitful  mood  of 
light  and  shade,  it  changes  from  a  hazy 
blue  to  a  solemn  gray.  You  are  attracted 
by  the  majestic  trees,  the  fir,  yellow-pine, 
and  you  are  astonished  at  the  tremendous 
girth,  towering  height,  beautifully  carved 


To  Alaska.  133 


bark,  and  graceful  burrs  and  cones. 
Then  you  startle  covies  of  quail,  one 
family  and  a  hundred,  that  fly  and  run  in 
such  a  coquettish  style.  You  wish  for  a 
gun  a  score  of  times,  for  gray  and  pure 
white  squirrels  fan  their  tails  to  the  breezes 
from  wavy  branch  and  fallen  log — -just  one 
spot,  for  one  hour,  with  a  gun — and  my 
bag  would  have  been  filled  again  and 
again.  In  the  valley  down  there  the  Cali- 
fornia lion's  roar  is  heard  every  night. 
You  care  not  to  meet  such  game,  but  a 
bear  you  would  not  mind.  No  sooner 
said,  up  from  the  side  leaps  a  cinnamon 
giant,  trotting  off  up  the  hill-side,  and 
looking  back  so  very  guilty  all  the  while 
—just  like  a  boy  who  has  jumped  the 
orchard  fence  and  makes  his  escape  from 
his  pursuer.  The  driver  is  looking  for 
fresh  tracks  of  the  rattlesnake  across  the 
dusty  drive.  Now  here  is  one,  as  smooth 
as  a  trowel-track  across  a  heap  of  flour. 
He  is  killed  with  little  fight,  for  in  Au- 
gust this  dangerous  reptile  is  blind — he 
sheds  his  skin,  and  the  film  from  his  eyes. 
One  of  the  passengers  cuts  off  the  rattle 
— he  now  has  captured  two  of  the  seven- 
rattle  specimens.  The  driver  regales  us 
with  a  rattlesnake  story.  He  speaks  of 


134  Through  Wonderland 

their  fangs,  their  poisonous  strike,  and  the 
fear  the  horses  have  for  them.  "One 
day,"  he  says,  "  a  big  one  crossed  in  the 
road  ;  he  aimed,  and  my  leaders  jumped 
to  a  side.  He  struck  his  fangs  into  the 
stage-pole,  and  sure,  in  five  minutes  it  had 
so  swelled,  that  we  had  to  unhitch  the 
rear  horses  to  wait  until  the  stick  had  been 
reduced  to  its  natural  size." 

FIRST    GLIMPSE    OF   THE    YOSEMITE. 

From  Wawona,  yet  twenty-six  miles. 
Suddenly  we  round  a  sharp  precipice, 
and  the  horses  are  reined  to  a  dead  halt. 
"Inspiration  Point  !"  proudly  hails  the 
driver.  If  the  white  man  who  first  drank 
in  this  bursting  grandeur  in  1851  was  as 
much  awed  as  we  were,  he  did  ample  jus- 
tice to  the  scene.  The  sublime  spectacle 
of  domes  and  spires  suggested  another 
and  greater  Michael  Angelo — for  here  a 
hundred  St.  Peters  were  piled  on  top  of 
one  another.  Well  might  the  soul,  filled 
with  reverence,  exclaim  : 

"  Silence !    Emotions  new  and  strange  here  rise 

And  sweep  with  cyclonic  force  the  breast ! 

A  new  strange  world,  all-powerful  and  sublime 

Enchains,  enslaves,  and  fetters  all. 

The  greatest,  most  of  all,  are  fettered  most, 

Only  the  pigmies  chatter,  and  fools  alone 

Find  laug)  ter  here  where  Nature  speaks 


To  Alaska.  135 

In  tones  of  grandeur  and  sublimity ! 
Strong  lips  are  dumb  and  eyes  unused  to  tears 
Are  forced  to  yield  the  highest  tribute  of  the  soul, 
To  these  grand  thoughts  of  the  External  Mind." 

Those  lofty  Cathedral  Spires  !  Methinks 
the  chimes  should  sound  from  their  belfry 
high.  But  no  mortal  hand  ever  touched 
those  silent  bells.  Across  the  valley,  close 
by  that  El  Capitan  of  mystic  mien,  leaps 
down  the  Yosemite  Falls,  2.548  feet,  and 
breaks  in  three  parts — 

"Its  floor,  a  wealth  of  glittering  gems, 
Too  pure  and  bright  for  earthly  kings  ; 

No  jewels  set  in  diadems 
Can  match  its  gold  and  sapphire  rings." 

But  why  mean  I  to  tell  everything  just 
now.  Let  the  incidental  suffice  'til  a  more 
opportune  time.  I  would  to  Vernal  Falls 
and  to  Nevada  Falls  this  day.  From  the 
Stoneman  house  we  start — and  three  of 
us  sit  astride  that  phenomenal  animal 
known  as  the  dwarf-mule.  His  long  ears 
are  the  most  intelligent  part  of  him,  his 
tail  is  nothing,  and  his  face  a  comparative 
blank  of  innocency.  But  I  have  a  spark 
of  admiration  for  him  since  I  have  tried 
him — he  knows  enough  to  get  out  of  work 
if  he  can,  and  if  he  must  climb  mountains 

he  is  sure  not  to   fall    from    them. The 

guide  styles  him  the  California  canary/be- 


136  Through    Wonderland 

cause  of  his  pretty  song — and  just  then 
the  beast  brayed — Ah  ha  !  Ah  ha — yah  ! 
How  daring  to  risk  your  life  on  those 
trails  ! — three  and  five  feet  wide  and  only 
hanging  on  the  side  of  the  mountains,  as 
it  were.  But  here  we  go — an  army  officer, 
myself  and  the  guide.  Up  and  up  we 
wind,  round  and  round  as  well — the  guide 
leads,  and  we  follow  one  at  a  time.  At 
last  we  stand  above  the  beautiful  Nevada, 
whose  diamond  columns  wave  down  in 
brilliant  colors  600  feet  to  the  projecting 
rocks.  Next  day  we  would  climb  to 
Glacier  Point — another  vertical  peak.  I 
have  discarded  "  Boston  " — he  disgraced 
the  preacher  by  acting  balky,  and  it 
created  many  a  humiliating  laugh  on  the 
way.  This  time  we  are  astride  "  Faithful 
Tom,"  and  up  and  back  he  promises  to 
bear  me  in  safety  full  twelve  miles.  Alas! 
what  a  presumption.  Look  this  way,  and 
down — already  2,000  feet  up,  and  only 
one  step  to  the  side,  and  Tom  and  his  load 
of  theology  might  be  spilled  in  the  valley 
below.  The  tricky  rascal — he  will  step 
close  to  the  edge,  and  just  where  the  trail 
overhangs  the  valley  below.  How  many 
S  turns  I  cut  on  that  trail  I  do  not  know 


to  Alaska.  137 

— '-but  at  last  we  stand  3,250  feet  on  high, 
and  look  below,  and  miles  around — 

"  Throne  of  the  Continent !    Queen  of  all  splendor  I 
Creation  supernal !    Work  wholly  divine  ! 

Yes,  the  vision  made  me  forget  that  I 
now  had  to  descend  where  I  had  ascended. 
Like  winding  stairs,  just  as  narrow,  and 
just  as  precipitous,  the  trail  led  down  and 
no  railing  on  the  outside.  How  eagerly 
one  will  hold  on  to  life — for  I  firmly 
and  most  tenderly  clung  to  the  pommel  of 
that  Mexican  saddle — and  let  the  rest  to 
"Tom."  Does  one  foot  slip,  he  has 
three  more  ;  do  two  slip,  he  has  two  more; 
do  all  slip — away  you  go  !  On  the  road 
up  came  a  camping  party — a  man  on  a 
horse,  a  rope  twisted  into  the  tail  of  his 
horse,  and  two  women  hanging  on  to  the 
rope  holding  fast  to  cross-sticks  —like  the 
tail  of  a  kite.  They  wore  bloomers;  and 
the  third  lady  sat  astride  another  horse 
dressed  in  a  divided  skirt,  followed  by  a 
man  hanging  on  to  the  horse's  tail.  The 
women  were  an  aristocratic  set,  and  they 
did  all  this  hard  work  for  nothing.  For 
glory  more  than  for  honor,  we  will  often 
dare  to  do  great  things. 


138  Through  Wonderland 

AMONG   THE   BIG   TREES. 

Just  forty-three  miles  the  other  way  are 
located  the  Big  Trees.  We  rose  at  4.30 
o'clock  of  morning  to  get  to  the  Mariposa 
Grove.  Let  me  tell  you  in  brief  that 
those  trees  were  a  greater  surprise  than  I 
had  anticipated  them  to  be — they  are 
simply  monstrous,  and  scattered  in  all 
shapes  up  and  down  the  forest.  Here  is 
the  "  Grizzly  Bear,"  34  feet  in  diameter, 
100  feet  in  circumference,  and  it  grows 
bigger  and  bigger,  the  longer  you  gaze  on 
it.  Some  specimens  stand  300  feet  high, 
and  their  ages  are  4,000  and  more  years 
old.  When  the  Pharoahs  built  their 
pyramidal  monuments  they  stood  here — * 
long  before  the  Star  of  Bethlehem  looked 
down  upon  the  manger,  they  waved  in 
hoary  age.  I  bow  with  reverence  before 
their  grand  antiquity.  Into  the  heart  of 
one  a  tunnel  is  cut,  and  our  stage,  all 
loaded,  and  four-in-hand,  drove  through 
In  another  the  heart  is  burnt  out,  and 
through  the  grand  living  trunk,  you  look 
up,  as  through  the  telescope,  and  you  see 
the  wide  blue  sky.  You  can  see  and  not 
so  easily  describe,  but  these  sequoia  mon- 
archs  are  bigger  than  I  had  ever  dared  to 
expect  them  to  be.  In  the  circle  drawn 


to  Alaska.  139 


around  one  of  these  trees,  I  could  plant  a 
whole  company  of  soldiers — their  hollowed 
roots  are  the  tents  of  campers.  Spare 
them,  thou  vandal,  who  carves  his  name 
everywhere.  It  takes  till  4,000  years 
more  before  others  like  these  will  lure  the 
distant  pilgrim  to  gaze  on  such  stupendous 
wonders. 


IN  THE  PRUNE  AND  OLIVE  FARMS 
OF  SANTA  CLARA  VALLEY. 

XVII. 

SAN  JOSE,  CAL.,  AUG.  18,  1895. 
I  came  to  the  "  Garden  City" — San 
Jose — which  you  will  pronounce  Son  Ho- 
say.  This  sunny  land  of  California  bears 
the  impress  of  its  first  settlers — the  Span- 
ish. They  are  gone  and  their  indolence 
with  them,  but  the  flavor  of  their  mother- 
tongue  hangs  about  here,  never  to  leave. 
The  mission  fathers  are  remembered  by 
their  quaint  church  structures,  and  by  the 
spreading  shades  of  their  century  trees. 
The  old  bells  are  silent  now,  but  Santa 
Clara  and  all  kindred  points  are  fragrant 
with  the  memories  of  their  early  worship. 
By  Monterey's  coast  the  bard  walks  amid 
cypress  trees  of  tradition  hoary,  and 
thinks  of  those  Devotees  of  Boodh — 

"  Here  the  pious  exiles  landed 

And  upreared  a  shrine  ; 
Seeds  of  sacred  cypress  planted 

For  the  grove  and  sign 
Of  their  mystic  creed,  commanded 

In  its  looks  divine." 


to  Alaska.  141 


The  coach  rolled  up  to  Hotel  Vondome, 
and  by  its  garden  perspective  I  discovered 
that  I  had  come  to  the  semi-tropical  region 
— into  America's  Sunny  Italy,  The 
sensuous  and  aesthetic  part  of  one's  na- 
ture at  once  are  buoyed  up  with  the  zest 
of  anticipation — here  the  palate  and  the 
soul  receive  enjoyment.  The  old  Fran- 
ciscan oak  bows  its  patriarchal  head  over 
tennis-court,  and  all  through  the  spacious 
hotel  gardens  the  palmettos  and  poplars 
and  peppers  and  figs  shade  rustic  walks 
and  seats. 

FRUITFUL    SANTA    <?LARA    VALLEY. 

Gradually  it  dawned  upon  me  also,  that 
I  had  wandered  into  the  Santa  Clara 
Valley,  made  famous  for  its  growing  of 
fruit.  As  I  had  already  stood  astonished 
at  the  products  of  Sacramento  Valley, 
and  tasted  of  its  delicious  peaches,  weigh- 
ing branches  to  the  ground  in  hundreds 
and  hundreds  of  acres  ;  as  I  had  already 
plucked  clusters  of  grapes,  like  those  of 
the  Scriptural  Eschol  from  the  Fresno- 
vineyards,  where  raisins  are  made  of 
famous  quantity  and  beauty — I  was  most 
anxious  to  see  the  ranch-district,  from 
which  came  the  World's  Fair  Prune 
Horse.  You  remember  him  ?  I  found 


142  Through   Wonderland 

him  lodged  in  San  Jose,  denuded  of  his 
prunes — but  posing  in  the  majesty  of  his 
laurels.  Now  I  must  confess  that  I  never 
had  such  a  succession  of  feasts  on  fruit  as 
through  these  district  belts  of  California. 
Such  canteloupe  and  melons  !  Such  pears 
and  peaches  !  thick  like  two  fists,  juicy 
and  full  of  flavor.  And  such  grapes  1 
Like  ox-heart  cherries  they  swell  the 
bunches  to  enormous  sizes,  and  you  eat 
each  separate  one  like  a  parcel  of  meat. 
Down  East  we  have  one  universal  fruit — 
the  apple.  When  I  think  that  on  the  loth 
of  October,  1639,  the  first  apples  gathered 
in  this  country  were  from  trees  planted  in 
Governor's  Island,  ten  fair  pippins,  there 
being  not  one  apple  or  pear  tree  planted 
in  any  part  of  the  country,  but  upon  that 
island — and  now  revel  in  the  fruit  orchards 
of  far-off  California,  I  am  amazed  at  what 
viticulture  and  horticulture  have  done  in 
so  short  a  time.  And  such  variety  of 
products — orange,  lemon,  prune,  apricot, 
nectarine,  plum,  cherries,  fig,  olive,  pear, 
peach,  apple,  grape,  quince,  pomegranate, 
persimmon,  loquat,  guava,  pineapple, 
bananas,  date,  becan,  almond,  chestnut, 
walnut,  hazelnut,  filberts,  berries,  and 
hops,  grain,  corn,  millets,  alfalfa,  oatst 


to  Alaska*  143 


rye,  barley,  canary  seed,  beet  sugar,  cot- 
ton, rice,  tea,  dairying,  ostrich  farms — 
all  these  in  one  breath.  In  Sacramento 
Valley  I  saw  hundreds  of  acres  covered 
with  watermelons,  thick  as  a  potato  patch, 
uprooted  and  going  to  waste  by  the  thou- 
sands, because  of  the  glut  in  the  market. 
In  San  Francisco  boatloads  of  fruit  were 
thrown  overboard  to  keep  up  the  market. 
Along  the  stations,  baskets  of  pears  were 
offered,  of  twenty-five  large  specimens, 
such  as  sell  in  home-market  for  five  cents 
a  piece,  for  two-bits,  or  twenty-five  cents. 
The  most  delicious  grapes  are  handed  you 
by  the  several  pounds  for  a  nickel.  What 
a  universal  country  is  California  ! — and 
larger  than  these  States  put  together — 
New  York,  Massachusetts,  New  Jersey, 
Delaware,  Rhode  Island,  Maine,  Vermont, 
New  Hampshire,  Connecticut  and  Ohio. 
It  has  a  coast  line  on  the  Pacific,  reaching 
from  Plymouth  Bay  of  Massachusetts  by 
'the  north,  to  Savannah  of  Georgia  by  the 
south,  and  well  may  you  sing  of  it — 

"  The  rose  entwines  the  orange  tree,  the  sea-winds  rock 

the  pines, 
And  wheat  sheaves  lift  their  golden   heads  amid  the 

clustering  vine  ; 

The  latest  glow  of  sunset  still  enfolds  them  evermore, 
While  Strength  and  Beauty  stand    hand   clasped  upon 

this  Western  shore.' 


144  Through  Wonderland 


TONS    OF    PRUNES    AND    APRICOTS. 

But  I  am  in  Santa  Clara  Valley,  pre- 
eminently noted  for  its  prunes  and  apri- 
cots— the  largest  crops  in  the  world. 
Strange  to  say,  I  have  become  a  partial 
guest  of  the  Board  of  Trade  in  San  Jose 
— and  by  the  courtesy  of  its  secretary,  J. 
B.  Fay,  and  another  member,  Col.  T.  R. 
Weaver,  I  am  driven  over  twenty  miles 
of  fruit  land.  Col.  Weaver  is  himself 
a  large  prune-grower,  and  is  president 
of  "The  Co-operators'  Fruit-Growing 
Union."  Behind  a  good  steed  we  raced 
over  a  checkered  territory  on  schedule- 
time.  And  let  me  tell  you,  that  the 
suburban  roads  of  San  Jose  are  the  de- 
light of  Jehu's  vocation.  Over  300  miles 
in  the  valley  are  sprinkled  from  tanks  that 
stand  aloft  at  intervals,  like  the  Holland 
wind  mills.  A  post  office  delivery  also  is 
in  use  all  through  this  region — and  the 
whole  section  around  is  a  continuous  series 
of  fruit  gardens — like  forests  they  stand  * 
out. 

Now,  we  pass  an  almond  orchard,  then 
a  cherry — but  everywhere  the  prune  and 
apricot.  How  inviting  !  What  a  beauti- 
ful vista  as  you  look  up  these  acres  of 
trees  that  stand  as  if  planted  on  a  chalk- 


To  Alaska.  145 


line,  and  arch  so  gracefully  over  the  hills  ! 
We  drive  into  one  ranch.  Remember, 
there  is  not  a  blade  of  weed  found  in  that 
soil  as  large  as  your  little  finger.  The 
prune  trees  are  planted  twenty  feet  apart, 
they  stand  fifteen  feet  high,  and  spread. 
At  five  years  old  they  bear,  yielding  five 
tons  to  the  acre,  and  one  thirty-five  years 
old  had  1,000  pounds  of  fruit  on  it.  The 
trees  have  each  a  tar-paper  wrapped 
around  the  trunk  to  keep  off  the  canker 
worm.  This  paper  is  saturated  with 
printer's  ink,  and  is  a  sure  guard  against 
the  destructive  thing.  The  fruit-dresser 
is  an  expert,  and  in  cutting  the  spur  he 
looks  ahead  two  years. 

My  friend  selects  samples  from  the 
bowed  branches,  and  in  handing  me  to 
taste  he  says — "  You  are  eating  California 
sunshine  in  a  concentrated  form  !"  If 
sunshine  tastes  that  way— it  certainly 
is  sweet.  This  land  at  $250  per  acre, 
selling  fruit  at  five  cents  a  pound,  makes 
a  cost  of  $75  to  the  acre  to  put  the  pro- 
duct on  the  market.  That  leaves  a  net 
profit  of  $150 — better  than  grain  farming. 
We  pass  a  cattle  king's  prune  orchard 
who  paid  $36,000  for  sixty  acres,  and 
cleared  it  entirely  in  three  crops. 


146  Through  Wonderland 


THE    FRUIT    DRYING    PROCESS. 

It  is  a  sight  the  provident  farmer's  wife 
of  Pennsylvania  might  want  to  see  after 
she  spreads  her  six  drying  trays  of  fruit- 
snitz  to  the  sun.  Imagine  30,000  trays, 
two  by  three  feet,  covering  the  ground  of 
60  acres,  with  prunes  and  apricots  and 
peaches  !  It  looks  like  an  immense  bed- 
quilt  of  the  checkered  design.  The  pro- 
cess is  a  most  cleanly  one,  and  I  recom- 
mend the  Santa  Clara  prune  from  this 
standpoint  as  well.  Farmers  from  all  the 
region  around  bring  their  fruit  to  these 
drying  establishments.  Skill  is  used  to 
cure  them.  The  prune  is  first  dipped  in 
lye  to  soften  the  skin  for  the  purpose  of 
facilitating  for  drying.  It  is  canned  by 
machinery  through  a  cold  water  wash  to 
remove  every  trace  of  lye  and  allowed  to 
fall  over  a  crate  which  sorts  it  in  the  lump. 
Upon  trays  it  is  railroaded  out  to  the 
fields,  and  is  placed  on  the  ground  to  re- 
ceive the  full  effect  of  the  sun's  rays. 
According  to  the  heat  or  the  humidity  of 
the  air,  it  takes  a  week  or  a  month  to 
cure.  Then  it  is  given  a  sweat  in  the  bin 
to  give  it  the  glossy  appearance  and 
plumpness.  To  destroy  the  insect  germs 
of  the  drying  period  the  fruit  is  immersed 


to  Alaska.  147 


in  boiling  water,  and  after  three  hours  it  is 
packed  in  boxes  or  bags  for  the  dealer. 
Pears  and  peaches  are  treated  in  their  last 
stages  by  a  sulphur  sweat  to  give  them  a 
uniform  color.  The  expert  tells  me  that 
few  housewives  know  how  to  prepare 
prunes  for  the  table.  One  pound  of 
prunes  takes  two  pints  of  water,  and  it 
must  cook  from  twenty-five  to  thirty 
hours.  Apricots  take  three  pints  of  water 
to  the  pound  and  twenty-four  hours  boil- 
ing. Peaches  the  same.  That  brings  out 
the  fruit  in  its  increased  plumpness,  and 
quantity  makes  it  cheaper.  I  pass  by  the 
canning  of  choice  fruits  in  this  valley — it 
is  an  interesting  study,  and  the  delicious 
jars  and  cans  are  sweetly  picturesque  in 
their  variegated  tiers  of  fruit  color. 

ON    THE    QUITO   OLIVE    FARM. 

The  olive  is  of  old-time  •  history  and  it 
belongs  to  the  sacred  literature  of  Scrip- 
ture. The  soil  and  climate  of  Palestine 
are  here,  and  they  invited  the  olive  tree. 
The  Jesuit  built  his  missions  in  California, 
and  with  him  he  brought  the  tree  that  now 
rustles  its  silvery  leaves  to  the  winds,  and 
whispers  encouragement  to  the  hopes  of 
the  laborer.  Olive  orchards  are  styled 
4 'the  surface  gold  mines."  They  yield 


148  Through  Wonderland 


wealth.  The  olive  oil  imported  to  America 
as  the  best  French  product,  conies  origi- 
nally from  Asia  Minor,  brought  there  in 
skins  on  the  backs  of  wabbling  camels. 
It  however,  is  adulterated  by  our  Southern 
cotton  seed  oil — not  unwholesome.  The 
Quito  oil  is  pure,  and  that  is  the  chief 
merit.  Under  a  long  grape  arbor  we 
enter  the  orchard.  Think  of  it — 800 
acres  !  and  7,000  trees  out  this  direction. 
They  look  like  "our  stream  willows,  and 
gummy  to  touch.  The  oil  process  is  a 
slow  one.  Crushed  in  a  stone  grinder, 
the  pomice  is  placed  into  a  rope-vat  and 
pressed  by  machinery.  The  crude  oil  is 
filtered  through  paper  in  a  large  funnel  set 
in  a  tub.  Slowly  it  trickles  through. 
How  very  oily  is  that  oil,  as,  like  quick- 
silver, it  quivers  in  those  tiers  of  cans  ! 
After  one  year  it  is  fit  for  market.  The 
olive  fruit  is  bottled  when  ripe,  and  is 
black  in  color  when  fully  mature. 

But  enough.  I  hasten  back  to  dine, 
and  dismiss  my  new-made  friends  with 
grateful  courtesy.  I  preached  in  San  Jose 
and  spent  a  Sunday  of  sweetest  rest. 
A  former  resident  of  my  adopted  city,  a 
well-favored  lady,  called  to  welcome  me 
to  a  tea.  It  is  surprising  how  the  cast 


To  Alaska.  149 


and  west  link  in  family  ties,  and  on  the 
far-away  waste  you  may  find  your  an- 
cestors hanging  on  the  wall.  Though  the 
world  is  big,  you  stumble  upon  friends 
everywhere,  and  therefore  it  is  not  as  big 
as  it  would  seem  to  be. 


LOOKING  THROUGH  THE 

LARGEST  TELESCOPE 

IN  THE  WORLD. 

XVIII. 

DEL  MONTE,  CAL.,  AUG.  20,  1895. 
I  start  to-day  for  Mt.  Hamilton  to  look 
through  the  largest  telescope  in  the  world. 
I  have  always  been  a  star-gazer,  and  like 
Isaac  of  old,  I  frequently  rest  my  eyes  on 
the  sky  at  night,  and  meditate — but  I  care 
only  for  the  practical  side  of  the  science 
of  astronomy.  Then,  too,  I  have  interest 
in  that  famous  observatory,  for  it  was  the 
gift  of  James  Lick,  who  was  born  in 
Fredericksburg,  Pennsylvania,  the  same 
town  in  which  I  was  born,  and  whose  son 
was  the  companion  of  my  father.  So 
most  naturally  I  tarry  by  the  way,  for — 

"  Mount  Hamilton  reads  reverently  the  mysteries  of  the 

skies, 
Where  San  Jose's  wide  valley  sweep,  in  fruited  richness 

lies." 

The  four-in-hand  stands  ready  in  front 
of  Hotel  Vendome — I  take  seat  with  the 
driver  in  the  box.  It  is  Saturday,  Au- 
gust i yth,  the  only  night  of  the  week 


To  Alaska.  151 

when  the  large  telescope  is  open  to  visi- 
tors. We  have  forty  three  miles  to  make, 
and  will  return  at  2  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing. A  college-bred  rancher  interests  me 
by  the  way  with  his  knowledge  of  Cali 
fornia  farm-life.  He  describes  the  monster 
steam  plows  and  harvesting  machines  used 
on  his  thousands  of  acres — and  discusses 
the  science  and  philosophy  of  iQth  century 
progress  in  general.  I  ask  the  meaning 
of  the  stacks  of  bags  scattered  all  over 
the  field.  He  says— "We  cut,  thrash 
and  bag  the  wheat  all  by  one  machine — 
we  store  it  in  the  field  awaiting  the 
market."  We  pass  a  number  of  car-like 
wagons  resting  under  trees — he  tells  me 
that  those  are  the  cook -cars  that  follow 
the  herdsmen,  the  road  builders  and  the 
harvesters  everywhere. 

IN    THE    LICK    OBSERVATORY. 

A  season  of  brief  rest  at  the  luncheon  of 
Smith  Creek  prepares  us  for  the  evening 
mountain  climb.  Santa  Clara  county  has 
built  this  road  at  an  expense  of  $100,000, 
and  over  seven  miles  more,  the  costliest 
part,  we  have  to  drive.  No  less  than  365 
curves  we  make  in  this  road  until  we  have 
zig-zagged  up  to  the  top,  How  deceiving 
the  distance!  That  great  dome  up  there 


152  Through    Wonderland 

seems  as  evanescent  and  unreachable  as 
the  rainbow's  pot  of  gold.  At  long  last 
we  are  up,  and  we  are  favored  with  a 
lovely  sight.  Now  let  me  tell  you  of  a 
peculiar  scenic  delight.  Under  a  sky  so 
clear,  a  perspective  beauty  unfolded  from 
the  west  almost  indescribable.  This  way 
and  that  way  reached  Gavilan,  Santa  Cruz, 
and  Sierra  Morena  ranges,  and  down  to 
the  Pacific  waters,  set  the  sun.  Never  in 
all  my  travels  did  I  behold  such  a  gor- 
geous sunset.  Streaky  clouds  and  jagged 
mountain-tops  were  a  fire  of  gold,  chang- 
ing into  greater  entrancing  beauty  every 
minute,  just  as  if  getting  ready  to  open  the 
portals  to  let  angels  forth.  To  the  north, 
flamed  sky-high  a  forest-fire,  and  vied  in 
splendor  with  the  evening  sunset.  This 
incomparable  grandeur  I  saw  upon  the 
far-famed  crown  of  astronomical  research 
— 4,443  teet  aloft  on  the  inner  coast  range 
of  California. 

Night  has  come  on,  and  you  enter  a 
very  considerable  building.  An  astron- 
omer takes  you  in  hand  to  explain  the 
mystery  of  equipment  and  phenomena  of 
the  great  science.  On  the  walls  you  see 
photographic  and  visual  observations  of 
comets,  the  Milky  Way,  the  moon  and 


to  Alaska.  153 

planets.  Here  hangs  the  picture  of  the 
meteoric  shower  of  1866,  and  we  are  told 
that  they  happen  every  thirty-three  years, 
so  that  the  next  of  the  world  will  be  in 
November  of  1899.  I  can't  explain  to 
you  the  mechanism  of  the  three  equator- 
ials,  meridian  circle,  transit,  comet  seeker, 
horizontal  photo-heliograph,  photographic 
telescope,  and  minor  pieces  of  astronom- 
ical, physical  and  meteorological  apparatus 
— but  some  demonstrations  were  interest- 
ing. The  sky  seems  to  be  traversed  by 
the  astronomer  the  same  as  the  sea  is  by 
the  sailor — according  to  latitude  and  longi- 
tude. The  Pacific  standard  time  is  fur- 
nished for  every  railway  station  west  of  the 
Rockies.  How  wonderful  the  intricacies 
of  calculation!  Here  also  is  the  instru- 
ment that  registers  the  time  and  intensity 
of  earthquake  shocks,  and  so  every  phe- 
nomena of  earth  and  sky  are  brought 
under  the  masterful  inspectiou  of  man. 

LOOKING    THROUGH     THE     LARGE     TELE- 
SCOPE. 

You  go  into"  the  smaller  dome  first, 
where  the  1 2-inch  equatorial  is  placed. 
Up  a  movable  ladder  you  climb  and  look 
through,  and  behold! — beautiful  Venus, 
50,000,000  miles  away,  entrances  you. 


154  Through  'Wonderland 

Again  you  readjust,  and  now  Saturn  is 
brought  into  view.  How  like  a  halo 
around  the  brow  of  Madonna  is  that  fiery 
ring  which  encircles  that  satellite!  How 
meek  are  the  moons  that  watch  by  that 
'crowned  world  of  the  sky. 

But  we  must  look  through  the  largest 
telescope  in  the  world.  We  are  con- 
ducted into  the  larger  dome  and  are 
placed  in  the  circular  balcony  seats,  where 
we  are  checked  off,  fifteen  at  a  time,  to 
take  the  eventful  peep.  In  darkness,  save 
as  the  star-lit  sky  gives  light,  we  wait 
fully  one  hour  for  our  turn.  But  mean- 
while we  observe  our  surroundings  and 
discuss  the  history  of  the  man  who  so  im- 
mortalized himself.  The  great  dome,  con- 
taining the  telescope,  has  a  diameter  of 
seventy-five  feet,  and  a  weight,  without 
the  floor,  of  one  hundred  and  thirty  tons, 
and  cost  $56,000.  There  poises  the 
world's  largest  refractor,  a  thirty-six  inch 
diameter,  with  a  fifty-six  foot  tube  shoot- 
ing up  to  the  sky.  Monstrous  thing! 
Chicago  envies  this,  and  is  at  making  a 
4O-inch  refractor,  Well,  that  mass  of  tons 
before  us  is  as  easily  manipulated  as  a 
child's  toy.  The  whole  building  too, 
seems  to  be  on  wheels,  for  when  the  conoid 


to  Alaska.  155 

of  the  dome  is  set  in  motion  and  the  great 
glass  is  being  adjusted  and  the  elevating 
floor  is  sinking  beneath  you,  a  creepy  im- 
pression gets  upon  you  that  the  whole 
business  is  an  aerial  chariot  making  a 
voyage  to  the  moon. 

You  wonder  also  that  a  man  like  James 
Lick  should  be  willing  to  devote  $700,000 
to  a  science  far  beneath  his  capacity. 
But  he  was  an  eccentric  genius.  Born  a 
Lebanon  countian,  August  25,  1796,  he 
died  in  San  Francisco  on  October  i,  1876. 
Meanwhile  he  had  been  an  organ  and 
piano  builder  in  Hanover,  Pa.,  and  in 
Baltimore,  and  at  last  turned  from  Buenos 
Ayres  and  the  coast  of  South  America  to 
San  Francisco.  By  land  speculation  there 
he  got  to  be  worth  $3,000,000,  and  left  it 
nearly  all  as  gifts  to  California.  A  monu- 
ment to  the  author  of  the  * '  Star  Spangled 
Banner,"  Francis  Scott  Key,  $60,000  ; 
emblematic  statuary  for  the  State,  $100,- 
ooo  ;  Home  for  Old  Ladies,  $100,000  ; 
free  baths  in  San  Francisco,  $100.000  ; 
schools  of  training  and  art,  $540,000,  and 
the  Lick  observatory  to  the  University  of 
California,  $700,000.  In  the  reception 
room  stands  his  working  bench,  brought 
from  South  America,  and  beneath  the 


156  Through  'Wonderland 

dome,  under  the  large  telescope,  rests  his 
body — one  of  the  proudest  monuments  to 
mortal  man. 

At  last  my  turn  has  come,  and  eagerly 
I  look  in  by  that  wonder  machine  ;  and 
what  to  the  naked  eye  is  only  one  twink- 
ling star,  now  scatters  under  that  magnify- 
ing vision  into  a  thousand  suns,  and  each 
one  has  a  system  of  worlds  to  revolve 
around  it,  like  the  one  sun  to  whom  our 
world  belongs.  It  is  a  cluster  in  Hercules. 
By  sense  I  never  was  so  near  Heaven — 
but,  by  faith  we  enter  altogether  within. 

AT   THE    HOTEL    DEL    MONTE. 

A  little  rest  in  Paradise  for  the  passing 
tourist  is  not  undesirable.  So  I  was  lured 
aside  to  Del  Monte.  By  Spanish  inter- 
pretation it  is  the  ' '  Hotel  of  the  Forest. ' ' 
But  the  126-acre  park  around  it  is  not  a 
forest — but  a  garden  of  the  rarest  and 
most  gorgeous  flowers  of  the  different 
climes  of  the  earth — walks  and  drives, 
shaded  by  oaks  and  pines  and  palms — 
with  soft  winds,  sweetly  scented,  to  blow 
through  them — and  a  wide  extending 
structure  of  Gothic  facades,  shapely 
gables,  minarets  and  towers,  window-hoods 
and  broad  verandas,  accommodating  seven 
hundred  guests — and  its  ribbon  beds  float- 


to  Alaska.  157 


ing  from  the  entrance  vista  with  the  colors 
of  callas  and  heliotropes — and  trunks  of 
trees  hung  with  ivy,  honeysuckles  and 
nasturtiums — and  the  great  beds  of  nar- 
cissus and  tulips  and  crocuses  and  crown 
imperials  and  Holland  gems  blooming 
forth  hearts  and  trefoils  and  forms  many, 
in  winter  as  well  as  in  summer.  Surely — 
it  is  an  earthly  paradise  at  least. 

The  morning  greets  us  with  a  glowing 
fire  in  the  grate,  and  a  royal  breakfast. 
The  soldiers  are  on  drill  without,  and 
their  dress-parade  blue,  sets  well  to  the 
sun-rising  scene.  Very  soon  the  tally-ho 
sounds  its  aristocratic  blasts,  and  the 
young  scion  of  millions,  with  $25,000  to 
disperse  per  month,  has  taken  from  his 
twenty  blooded  steeds  shipped  here,  eight 
of  them.  And  with  a  multitude  of  rib- 
bons in  his  hands,  a  choice  company  of 
youth  and  beauty  on  board,  and  four  gray- 
dressed  grooms  to  his  aid,  he  sallies  forth 
upon  the  famous  "  seventeen  mile  drive." 
The  aged  Cypress  trees  have  immortalized 
this  road,  and  the  poet  sings  of  them  : 

"  Tell  me  your  tradition  hoary, 

Grand  old  Cypress  Trees, 
Dwelling  on  this  promontory 

By  the  sunset  seas ! 
Whisper  the  delicious  story 

Of  dim  centuries." 


158  Through  Wonderland 

I  have  rested,  have  rekindled  the  attach- 
ment of  some  Alaskan  friends,  and  now  I 
am  off  again  to  conquer  other  fields.  The 
Leland  Standford,  Jr,  University,  with  its 
$20,000,000  of  property,  lies  to  the  left 
of  the  on-rushing  train.  A  monumental 
gift  it  is  to  the  memory  of  an  only  child. 
The  largest  horse  farm  in  the  world,  55,- 

000  acres  of  richest  land — 4,000  acres  in 
vines,  21,000  acres  of  the  best  wheat  belt 
— and    railroads,    and    gold    mines    and 
stocks  were  his,  but  alas  I  the  boy  died — 
and  here  is  his  monument. 

Again  in  San  Francisco — but  we  have 
also  seen  Sacramento,  the  capital.  We 
found  it  gorgeous  in  colors,  and  it  will  be 
all  ablaze  on  the  Qth  of  September,  when 
it  will  hold  its  Electric  Carnival.  I  noticed 
on  the  Golden  Eagle  hotel  envelope  a 
flaming  design  of  red,  green  and  yellow  ; 

1  saw    on   the   streets   from    horse-whip, 
bicycle,  coat  lapel  and  watch  chain  ribbon 
bows    of    the   same   color    flaunted,    and 
when  I  came  to  the  capitol  grounds  I  no- 
ticed that  all  the  cedar  trees  in   it  were 
decked  with  incandescent  lights  of  three 
colors — hundreds  and  hundreds  of  them, 
and  the  whole  front  of  that  vast  structure 
outlined  with  three-colored  lights — pillars, 


to  Alaska.  159 


friezes,  all  the  way  around  and  up,  and 
every  rib  of  the  dome  clear  aloft  to  the 
capping  point — all  traced  with  thousands 
of  lights.  All  the  streets,  fronts  of  houses 
and  arches  are  to  be  a  mass  of  glory. 
Now,  imagine  the  splendor,  the  -blazing 
grandeur  of  that  carnival,  when  the  night 
of  the  gth  will  rival  the  glory  of  the  mid- 
day-sun. It  is  the  annual  day  of  parade 
by  the  Native  Sons  of  the  Golden  West, 
and  is  the  day  of  the  State's  admission 
into  the  Union,  and  is  now  set  also  as  the 
celebration  of  a  great  achievement  of  pro- 
gress in  the  city's  history — the  established 
fact  of  great  electric  power  brought  in 
twenty-four  miles  from  Folsom  prison, 
where  it  is  generated  by  the  falls  of  the 
American  river  and  worked  by  the  State's 
prisoners.  Everything  henceforth  is  to  be 
run  by  electricity  in  Sacramento — even 
the  toboggan  slide.  Yes,  two  agencies 
have  taken  hold  of  the  whole  world  over 
night,  and  revolutionized  it  in  a  thousand 
directions — electricity  and  the  bicycle. 
The  messenger  and  telegraph  boys  are 
furnished  with  bicycles  by  the  respective 
companies.  The  'phone  calls  and  in  the 
instant  the  messenger  has  come  here. 
The  telegraph  clicks,  and  in  the  instant 


160  Through  Wonderland 


the  messenger  has  gone  there.  This  is  a 
syndicate  of  our  modern  inventions — the 
material  and  moral  goodness  of  our  land 
are  affected  by  these  forces. 


XIX. 

L,EGEND  OF  THE  CYPRESS  TREES. 


JOHN  RICHARDS. 


Tell  me  your  tradition  hoary, 

Grand  old  Cypress  Trees, 
Dwelling  on  this  promontory 

By  the  Sunset  Seas ! 
Whisper  the  delicious  story 

Of  the  dim  centuries ! 

This  is  not  your  place  primeval ; 

Not  your  native  clime  ; 
Hither  borne  in  medieval 

Unremembered  time, 
By  some  western  wave's  upheaval ; 

Make  the  legend  mine. 

From  the  vast  and  velvet  branches 

Of  a  patriarch  tree  ; 
Mingling  with  the  songs  and  dances, 

Of  the  restless  sea  ; 
Freighted  with  its  fragrant  fancies, 

Came  the  tale  to  me. 

L,ong  ago  from  far  Benares 

Grove  of  Cypress  Wood 
Went  a  band  of  missionaries, 

Devotees  of  Boodh  ; 
Bound  to  build  new  sanctuaries 

For  the  spread  of  good. 

Sailing  by  a  course  uncharted, 

Wandering,  but  not  lost, 
This  small  band  of  noble-hearted 

Long  on  Ocean  tossed, 
By  the  law  of  Karma  guarded, 

Gained  this  rocky  coast. 


1 62  Through  Wonderland 

Here  the  pious  exiles  landed, 

And  upreared  a  shrine  ; 
Seeds  of  sacred  Cypress  planted, 

For  the  grove  and  sign 
Of  their  mystic  creed,  commanded 

In  its  books  divine. 

Found  the  fait  land  all  unhaunted 

By  the  forms  of  men  ; 
Rested  in  its  vales  enchanted 

For  a  space,  and  then, 
Urged  by  purposes  undaunted, 

Set  to  sea  again. 

Through  the  centuries'  slow  transition, 

Since  they  sailed  away, 
We  have  kept  the  sweet  tradition, 

Treasured  to  this  day  ; 
Kept  the  faith  which  finds  fruition 

Still  in  far  Cathay. 

And  in  all  our  sombre  glory, 

Guard  a  sacred  shrine  ; 
Cluster  round  this  promontory, 

As  in  olden  time, 
To  repeat  the  fragrant  story, 

Which  to-day  is  thine. 


SITTING  UNDER  ORANGE  TREES 
AND  EATING  FRUIT. 

XX. 

Los  ANGELES,  AUG.  27,  1895. 
Los  Angeles  was  the  turning-point  of 
my  summer  journey.  It  is  the  radiating 
centre  of  interest  in  the  most  southern 
belt  of  California.  It  welcomes  you  from 
the  alkali  dust  of  the  desert  and  opens 
the  gates  of  its  surrounding  gardens.  To 
the  south  lies  San  Diego,  and  its  famous 
Coronado  by  the  beach  ;  Riverside,  of 
pomological  pre-eminence,  is  within  the 
chain  of  its  loop-like  excursions  ;  San 
Bernardino,  Pomona,  Redlands,  Cataline 
Island  and  Lowe's  mountain  ride  are  of 
varied  interest — but  Pasadena  is  the  crown- 
ing glory  of  the  valley,  it  is  the  garden 
spot  of  California. 

THERE  RESTS  LOVELY  PASADENA. 

I  took  a  ride  out  to  this  village  and  in- 
spected its  avenues  in  all  directions.  It  is 
the  residence-place  of  the  wealthy,  and 
many  Eastern  families  of  means  and  leisure 
live  here  in  winter.  It  has  most  luxuriant 


164  Through  Wonderland 


hotels,  and  is  of  Italian  style  of  architecture. 
Many  of  its  cottages  are  set  like  gems  be- 
hind the  broad-leaf  banana  and  palmetto 
— they  are  mostly  of  one-story  and  of 
frame  construction,  in  fear  of  the  formerly 
frequent  earthquakes.  Many  are  the  pa- 
latial mansions,  not  of  rugged  castle  de- 
sign, but  of  a  sunny,  easy-going  grace,  in 
keeping  with  the  delicious  climate  and  soft 
beauty  that  surrounds  them.  Most  luxu- 
rious yards  lead  up  to  them,  and  in  .them 
are  the  tropical  ferns  and  plants  and  trees. 
The  fence  around  these  gardens  of  fruit 
and  flowers  is  often  the  cypress  box,  and 
it  is  cut  as  if  carved  out  of  green  stone,  to 
the  design  of  over-spreading  arches,  and 
pillars  for  drives  and  foot-entrances.  More 
are  cement  fences,  with  cobble-stones  set 
in,  like  garnets  in  their  natural  beds,  and 
the  lower  walls  of  many  of  the  houses  are 
built  of  the  same  material,  and  also  the 
pilasters  and  stair-ways  leading  to  the 
door.  The  umbrella  and  pepper  and 
palm  trees  abound  as  the  ornamental  shade 
along  the  wide  avenues,  and  roses  in  full 
bloom  line  the  curb.  Within  the  yards 
luxuriate  the  crazy  cactus,  the  date  palm, 
the  maize  fan,  the  Spanish  bayonet — and 
the  century  plant  here  and  there  has 


To  Alaska.  165 


reached  its  twenty-eighth  year,  when  a  tall 
tree  shoots  from  its  heart  and  goes  to  its 
grave.  A  cactus  I  found  bearing  pears. 
All  along  the  rim  of  its  lobe-leaves  shapely 
fruit  hung,  like  pears  might  hang  to  the 
rim  of  an  elephant's  ear.  The  fruit  is  full 
of  needles,  and  it  requires  thick  gloves  to 
pluck  it. 

UNDER  THE  ORANGE  TREE. 

I  remember  my  boyhood  fancy  of  the 
orange,  looking  with  tempting  plumpness 
at  me  from  the  vendue-stand.  What  a 
far-away  fruit  !  I  thought — and  what  a 
fortune  it  took  to  buy  it — just  one  ! 
Well,  it  was  even  a  new  experience  now 
to  behold  an  orange-tree,  hanging  full  of 
those  yellow  spheres,  just  as  I  painted 
them  on  paper  in  the  play-hours  of  my 
school-days.  But  how  they  abound  ! 
This  Eastern  luxury  is  good  enough  for 
ornament  in  Pasadena,  and  trees  of  green 
and  yellow  fruit  adorn  the  garden  and 
public  walk,  as  shade  trees  do  at  home. 

Speaking  of  the  orange-culture,  I  had 
not  seen  it  yet  in  its  more  extensive  un- 
folding, until  I  came  to  the  groves  of  the 
ranches  at  Redlands.  I  came  here  to  visit 
a  little  colony  of  home-friends,  and  by 
their  courtesy  I  was  driven  over  miles  of 


1 66  Throiigh  Wonderland 


orange-forests — verily  a  graceful  stretch 
of  foliage.  Here  the  fruit  had  been 
gathered,  and  the  green  prospects  were 
coming  on.  The  Navel  is  ripe  in  Febru- 
ary, the  Mediterranean  Sweet  in  April, 
the  St.  Michael  in  May,  the  Valentia  Late 
in  July — but  a  ripe  orange  will  hang  on 
the  tree  from  January  to  January,'  and 
grow  the  sweeter  for  it.  I  found  in  the 
home  of  a  Berks  county  daughter,  the 
hammock  swinging  from  the  veranda,  and 
into  her  lap,  reclining  there,  might  drop 
the  delicious  fruit  of  the  overhanging 
ladened  branches.  From  that  point  of 
view,  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  the 
valley  abounds  with  orange  groves. 
Smileys,  of  Lake  Mahonk  ownership, 
have  bought  a  scrubby  height,  and  now  it 
is  converted  into  an  extensive  park  of 
most  artistic  design,  with  public  roads 
leading  through  it,  discovering  the  finest 
residences  and  garden  color  and  perspec- 
tive, and  all  around  rows  of  orange 
trees — acres  of  them. 

When  winter  comes  and  snow  makes 
barren  the  Eastern  home,  then  migrate 
these  nabobs  to  the  land  of  perpetual  sum- 
mmer.  Then,  Pasadena,  and  Riverside, 
and  Redlands  are  fragrant  with  the  aroma 


To  Alaska.  167 


of  the  orange-grove.  The  flowers  bloom, 
and  the  birds  sing,  and  Christmas  is 
Spring. 

IRRIGATION    AND    CLIMATE. 

There  is  practically  no  rain  all  summer 
out  here,  and  there  are  only  two  seasons 
to  the  year — the  wet  and  the  dry  season. 
To  preserve  the  trees  and  truck,  therefore, 
irrigation  is  necessary. 

In  parts  of  the  Sacramento  valley  I  saw 
windmills,  hundreds  of  them  in  a  span, 
pumping  the  artesian  wells  to  water  the 
land.  In  Redlands  is  a  perfect  system. 
The  water  is  brought  in  from  the  moun- 
tains in  stone  flumes,  and  is  conducted  to 
cement  cisterns  on  every  farm.  Pipes 
and  wooden  troughs  lead  from  the  tank  to 
the  elevated  parts  of  the  field,  and  at 
regular  intervals,  a  man,  so  employed, 
makes  the  rounds,  turns  on  the  water  and 
fills  the  furrows  plowed,  up  and  down  be- 
tween the  trees — and  so  every  month  the 
land  is  irrigated. 

The  greatest  theme  of  California  is  not 
gold  and  silver — but  climate.  There  are 
many  people  who  are  like  birds  of  passage 
— they  ever  migrate  in  search  of  climate. 
To  escape  the  heat  of  the  summer,  those 
who  are  able,  will  go  to  the  coast  of  Maine, 


1 68  Through    Wonderland 

or  the  mountains,  and  to  escape  the  rigors 
of  winter,  they  will  go  to  Florida  or  the 
Mediterranean — California  bids  for  all  the 
year,  as  binding  into  one,  the  summer  of 
the  Thousand  Isles,  and  the  winter  of  the 
Antilles.  The  standing  joke  is,  that  Cali- 
fornians  sold  their  climate,  and  threw  in 
the  land  as  a  gift.  Well,  it  must  be  said 
that  climate  is  also  an  enjoyment  of  life, 
and  there  is  nothing  impractical  in  the 
matter  of  buying  climate. 

I  have  been  all  up  and  down  in  this 
State,  on  the  coast  and  inland,  and  I  must 
admit  that  whatever  is  best  in  California, 
climate  I  must  give  the  palm  to  the  most 
southern  region.  And  there  is  something 
very  remarkable  about  the  climate  indeed. 
At  80  degrees  I  perspired  not,  and  at  no 
time  did  I  feel  distressed  as  in  the  East. 
The  trade  winds  come  daily  at  noon,  and 
soon  dissipate  the  heat,  as  they  drive  in 
through  the  Golden  Gate.  In  San  Fran- 
cisco the  cold  fogs  bite  deep,  and  on  the 
shady  side  of  the  street  a  lady  has  furs, 
whilst  on  the  sunny  side  she  wears  simply 
silks. 

But  the  disparity  of  temperature  is  no 
ticeable'  within  fifty  miles — a  beautiful  equ- 
able temperature  is  reached  from  the 


to  Alaska,  169 


regions  of  Redlands  to  San  Diego.  You 
sleep  under  blankets  at  night,  and  in  the 
day  you  walk  forth  into  an  atmosphere  so 
sweet  and  invigorating  that  you  feel  like 
biting  it  off.  It  is  the  home  of  pulmonary 
invalids  as  much  as  the  Adirondacks  can 
be.  If  home  is  sweet,  yet  life  is  more 
sweet.  Therefore,  this  land  of  promise 
to  the  physically  distressed  will  ever  allure 
them — 

"A  land  of  sunny  days, 

Of  winds,  whose  soft  caress 

Doth  lull  to  sweet  forgetfulness; 

Of  eves  enwrapped  in  mellow  haze, — 

And  nights  where  fairy-fingered  Sleep 

Doth  soothe  the  restless  pulses  of  the  deep; 

A  land  where  Winter  hath  fair  Summer  wed, 

And  these,  their  gentle  progeny,  are  bred." 


A  SUNDAY  SPENT  AT  SALT  LAKE 
WITH  THE  MORMONS. 

XXI. 

READING,  SEPT.  16,  1895. 

My  visit  to  Salt  Lake  City  will  be  of  in- 
terest to  you.  I  spent  three  days  among 
the  Mormons,  and  formed  a  very  complete 
idea  of  their  life  and  power  as  a  people. 
Here  is  a  great  prodigy  of  a  religion,  and 
it  rests  its  presumption  on  the  prophesy 
of  Dan'l  2:44 — "  And  in  the  days  of  these 
kings  shall  the  God  of  heaven  set  up  a 
kingdom  which  shall  never  be  destroyed  ; 
and  the  kingdom  shall  not  be  left  to  other 
people,  but  it  shall  break  in  pieces  and 
consume  all  these  kingdoms,  and  it  shall 
stand  forever. " 

There  is  something  very  romantic  about 
Mormonism,  and  with  this  feeling  I  came 
to  visit  its  home  and  study  its  practices 
and  history.  It  began  with  an  ignorant 
man  named  "Joe"  Smith,  who  lived  in 
Palmyra  of  New  York — he  could  read  and 
scarcely  write.  His  mother  was  a  super- 
stitious woman  and  Joe  a  genius.  He 


to  Alaska.  171 


took  a  "peep-stone"  from  his  father's 
well,  and  pretended  to  place  stolen  goods 
and  do  all  sorts  of  miraculous  and  mis- 
chievous things.  A  certain  back-sliding 
preacher,  Sidney  Rigdon  by  name,  called 
on  him,  and  in  that  very  year  of  1827 
Mormonism  came  into  being.  The  story 
goes,  that  an  angel  told  him  of  a  new  re- 
ligion, directed  him  to  the  hill  of  Curr- 
morah,  eight  miles  from  Palmyra,  where 
he  would  find  golden  plates,  and  some 
spectacles,  styled  Unm  and  Thummim,  to 
interpret  them.  At  Harmony  of  Penn- 
sylvania, with  his  wife's  father,  he  pre- 
tended to  read  those  hieroglyphics  to  his 
scribe  and  so  came  forth  the  Mormon 
Bible.  .But  it  is  a  clear  case  that  this 
"  Golden  Bible  "  is  a  translation  of  a  fan- 
tastic romance  written  in  scriptural  style, 
by  a  dreamy  clergyman  named  Spaulding, 
who  kept  his  "  manuscript  found  "  in  the 
printing  office  of  Patterson,  of  Pittsburg, 
Pa.,  where  Rigdon  was  employed,  and 
where  a  copy  was  made  of  it.  The  con- 
necting links  you  can  explain  yourself. 
But  the  Mormon  Bible  became  a  fact — 
6,000  copies  at  once  were  printed.  It 
tells  of  how  a  portion  of  the  tribe  of 
Joseph  600  B.  C.  came  over  to  America  ; 


1 72  Through  Wonderland 

that  two  powerful  nations  came  of  them, 
the  Nephites  and  Lamenites  ;  that  the 
latter  were  our  present  Indians,  and  that 
the  former,  a  civilized  people,  deteriorated 
and  became  extinct  but  that  their  prophet 
Mormon  gave  into  the  charge  of  his  son 
Moroni  the  golden  plates,  and  that  he  in 
the  form  of  an  angel  came  to  Joe  Smith  to 
reveal  all  this  new  religion. 

So  the  Church  of  Jesus  Christ  of  Latter 
Day  Saints  came  into  existence.  At  once 
the  imposition  took  among  the  illiterate, 
and  the  originators  cast  their  eyes  about 
for  Zion's  land.  It  is  a  long  and  thrilling- 
history  from  Palmyra,  N.  Y. ,  to  Salt  Lake 
City,  Utah — but  very  soon  at  Kirtland, 
Ohio,  Smith  builds  a  temple  for  $70,000, 
But  the  Mormons  are  driven  out  by  an 
outraged  community,  and  they  settle  a 
new  town  in  Illinois,  called  Nauvoo,  and 
make  the  malaria  spot  bloom  with  pros- 
perity and  another  magnificent  temple. 
But  the  Prophet  Joe  Smith  begins  to  con- 
trol the  politics  of  the  State,  he  announces 
the  doctrine  of  the  plurality  of  wives,  and 
really  becomes  a  candidate  for  the  Presi- 
dency of  the  United  States.  He  is  killed 
here,  and  the  Mormons  again  are  expelled. 
Over  20,000  leave  their  homes  and  land, 


to  Alaska.  173 

and  under  the  guiding  hand  of  Brigham 
Young,  one  of  the  shrewdest  and  most 
daring  men  of  his  day,  they  are  led  forth 
upon  their  Israelitish  wanderings  over 
trackless  deserts  to  find  the  land  of  Zion, 
I  spoke  with  a  man  in  St.  Joseph,  who  re- 
cited to  me  how  he  saw  that  procession 
twenty  miles  long — passing  on  in  lonely 
exile  to  an  undiscovered  land.  I  can't 
enlarge  upon  this  thrilling  chapter  of  their 
history — so  full  of  hardships  and  courage. 

THE  GREAT  CITY  OF  THE  MORMONS. 

On  the  28th  of  September  it  will  be  56 
years  since  Brigham  Young  brought  his 
flock  to  the  place  now  known  as  Great 
Salt  Lake  City.  This  place  he  selected, 
and  yet  Webster  had  disdainfully  set  it 
aside  in  the  language — "What  do  we 
want  with  this  vast,  worthless  area  ?  This 
region  of  savages  and  wild  beasts,  of 
deserts,  of  shifting  sands  and  whirlwinds 
of  dust,  of  cactus  and  prairie-dogs  ?  To 
what  use  would  we  ever  hope  to  put  these 
great  deserts,  or  those  endless  mountain 
ranges,  impenetrable  and  covered  to  their 
very  base  with  eternal  snow  ?' '  But  to  day 
Utah  is  a  smiling  garden.  The  desert  is 
irrigated — and  shaded — for  Brigham  said 
— "  dig  wells,  plant  trees."  Every  farm- 


174  Through  Wonderland 

house  is  enclosed  in  a  square  of  tall  poplar 
trees — and  the  land  grows  everything  but 
corn.  For  this  the  nights  are  too  cold. 

It  is  like  the  reading  of  a  religious  ro- 
mance to  come  to  Salt  Lake  City.  You 
come  for  nothing  else  but  to  see  a  religious 
curiosity — perhaps,  a  religious  monstrosity. 
It  has  only  60,000  inhabitants — but  it  is  a 
luxurious  and  unique  city.  Its  streets  are 
132  feet  wide,  and  are  well-shaded.  It 
has  more  children  than  any  other  city  of 
its  size  in  the  world.  It  has  moulded 
itself  to  the  Biblical  idea  of  a  holy  city, 
and  its  river  is  called  Jordan,  its  salty  Lake 
stands  for  the  Dead  Sea,  and  the  upper 
lake  for  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  and  there  is 
Mt.  Zion,  and  the  Temple' and  the  Taber- 
nacle —you  for  once  feel  like  an  exile  of 
heavenly  citizenship,  and  you  humbly  ac- 
cept the  place  you  are  given — the  Mor- 
mons are  the  Saints,  and  all  the  rest  are 
the  Gentiles.  No  less  than  35,000  Mor- 
mons live  in  Salt  Lake  City,  and  they 
claim  300,000  members  all  told.  Brigham 
Young  died  a  wealthy  man.  He  owned 
the  large  brewery  there,  built  the  theatre, 
and  instigated  the  co-operative  store, 
which  takes  in  $3,000,000  a  year.  When 
he  saw  the  railroads  and  'telegraph  lines 


to  Alaska*  175 


come  into  Utah,  he  advised  the  Mormons 
to  start  all  trades  and  hold  the  power  of 
monopoly.  Fort  Douglass  is  a  standing 
protest  of  former  Mormon  rebellion.  A 
swim  in  Salt  Lake  is  a  never-to-be-forgotten 
experience  of  your  visit.  The  ocean  has 
7  per  cent,  salt  and  this  lake  21  per  cent, 
— you  can't  sink  in  it.  You  can  rest  on 
your  back  and  very  complacently  read  the 
news  of  the  day  if  you  wish.  A  Moorish 
pavilion  is  built  4,000  feet  out  in  the 
water  and  lit  up  at  night  with  1,250  in- 
candescent lights  ;  the  dancing  floor  ac- 
commodates 2,000  couples,  and  as  the 
Mormons  are  a  pleasure-loving  people, 
they  all  dance — even  dance  in  their  ward 
meeting  houses  opened  with  prayer. 

But  your  chief  interest  lies  in  your  visit 
to  the  old-time  Brigham  Young  domain. 
You  find  a  ten -acre  area  of  the  city  walled 
in,  and  you  enter  under  the  Eagle  Gate, 
built  by  the  prophet.  This  historic  char- 
acter, the  pioneer  and  leader  of  Mormon- 
ism,  who  is  looked  upon  by  his  followers 
as  a  second  Moses,  lies  buried  in  sacred 
grounds  by  the  side  of  a  few  of  his  many 
wives.  You  find  the  famous  Bee  Hive 
and  Lion  House,  with  an  office  between, 
where  the  great  seer  lived  with  his  nu- 


176  Through  Wonderland 


merous  family.  You  look  into  the  Tith- 
ing place,  up  to  the  great  Temple,  the 
unique  Tabernacle,  the  Endowment  House 
and  Assembly  Hall,  and  think  what  church 
organization  can  do. 

MORMONISM    AS    A    POWER. 

Here  is  the  best  organized  system  of 
the  world.  Three  things  Mormonism  lays 
down  as  law — Obey  the  priesthood,  get 
baptized,  pay  tithing.  It  has  had  four 
great  heads — Joseph  Smith,  Brigham 
Young,  John  Taylor  and  the  living  presi- 
dent, Wilford  Woodruff,  with  his  two 
councillors,  George  I.  Cannon  and  Joseph 
F.  Smith.  There  are  12  apostles  who 
compose  the  heirarchy.  Each  county  of 
the  state  is  a  Stake,  which  has  a  president 
and  two  councillors.  Salt  Lake  City  is 
one  stake,  and  is  divided  into  23  wards, 
with  each  a  bishop  and  two  councillors, 
and  a  meeting  house  and  teachers,  and 
deacons  to  make  monthly  visits,  who  re- 
port through  the  lower  orders  to  the 
highest.  There  are  70  elders  and  23,000 
officers,  one  out  of  every  five  men.  Each 
is  kept  faithful  by  the  promise  of  promo- 
tion. 

Mormonism  has  great  temporal  power. 
It  has  an  income  of  about  $1,500,000 


To  Alaska.  177 


from  all  sources.  The  people  pay  the 
tenth  of  everything — the  tenth  of  an  egg 
to  the  tenth  of  a  hay-stack,  to  the  church 
— about  $500,000  annually.  With  this 
church-bank  it  buys  its  way  at  Washing- 
ton, in  courts  of  justice — everywhere.  Its 
spiritual  power  is  always  great.  Every 
year  at  the  Annual  Conference,  the  priest- 
hood selects  men,  who  are  called  to  go 
forth  as  missionaries  for  several  years. 
There  are  300  missionaries  in  the  field 
constantly,  at  their  own  cost.  The  emi- 
grant fund  is  ready  to  pay  the  way  of  new 
converts  from  any  country,  and  as  high  as 
ten  thousand  have  arrived  in  one  year. 
They  must  go  where  they  are  placed. 

The  Mormons  teach  principally,  that 
whilst  the  Bible  is  the  revelation  of  God, 
it  is  not  the  whole  ;  that  God  reveals  yet 
through  chosen  men,  and  such  an  one  was 
Joseph  Smith  the  prophet. 

They  believe  that  all  men  are  saved, 
even  Christian  scientists — all,  except  the 
reprobates. 

They  believe  that  anyone  can  be  bap- 
tized for  a  wicked  friend  and  for  the  dead 
even,  and  so  save  them. 

They  don't  practice  polygamy,  because 
restricted — but  it  is  yet  an  article  of  creed. 


178  Through  Wonderland 


ATTENDING    MORMON    WORSHIP. 

On  a  Sunday  I  went  into  one  of  the 
principal  wards  to  attend  the  Sunday 
school.  The  bishop  of  the  ward  and  his 
councillors,  and  three  other  minor  officers 
were  in  attendance.  They  sat  inside  a 
railing  in  business  dress,  and  the  Lord's 
Supper  was  in  readiness  before  them. 
The  school  was  opened,  not  unlike  any 
other,  and  then  the  superintendent  de- 
livered a  short  prayer  over  the  broken 
bread,  and  commanded  it  to  be  distributed. 
Now,  the  Lord's  table  had  three  cups  on 
one  side,  three  on  the  other,  with  two  ice 
pitchers,  and  bread,  broken  into  silver 
cake-vases.  Four  little  boys  came  up  out 
of  classes  about  10  and  15  years  of  age, 
and  carried  the  bread  to  the  bishops,  and 
out  to  every  little  girl  and  boy  and  teacher, 
and  offered  it  also  to  me.  After  a  prayer  on 
the  silver  ice-pitcher,  blessing  the  water — 
they  use  no  wine — the  boys  took  the 
pitchers  and  silver  mugs,  and  filled  up  in 
their  rounds,  as  if  they  were  treating  a 
crowd  at  a  picnic.  The  dispenser  of  the 
sacred  elements  scolded  a  boy  for  taking 
the  bread  and  cup  with  his  left  hand— 
"  always  with  the  right  hand — remember 
that  !"  I  noticed  after  the  ceremony  was 


to  Alaska.  179 


over,  that  a  thirsty  little  boy  went  up  to 
the  altar,  poured  out  a  communion  cup 
full,  and  drank,  as  if  the  altar  had  now  be- 
come an  ice-cooler.  After  that,  the  bell 
dismissed  the  smaller  classes  into  another 
room,  and  the  bishop  welcomed  me  as  a 
stranger.  I  inquired  of  their  way  of  ad- 
ministering the  Lord's  Supper,  and  to  little 
children  ?  He  said  children  had  no  sin. 
and  so  were  most  worthy.  At  eight  years 
of  age,  they  became  responsible,  and  by 
baptism  became  members,  and  then  they 
partook  of  the  Lord's  Supper  in  a  higher 
sense."  I  did  not  argue,  for  I  was  after 
information. 

I  also  attended  one  of  their  ward  ser- 
vices. How  barren  of  God  these  meeting 
houses  are  !  Smith,  Young,  Taylor  and 
Woodruff  are  the  paintings — not  Christ. 
The  Bible  is  there,  but  the  Mormon 
preacher  quotes  from  the  newer  revela- 
tions of  Smith  and  the  "Golden  Bible." 
A  preacher  is  not  prepared  beforehand. 
Any  one  in  the  audience  may  be  called  on 
of  the  ranks  of  exhorters,  and  he  has  to 
come  forward  and  do  the  best  he  can. 
Even  though  he  speak  nonsense,  it  is  of 
God.  A  Mormon  apostle  or  bishop  gets 
up  and  declares  that  he  will  speak  as  the 


180  Through  Wonderland 

Holy  Ghost  shall  give  him  utterance.  He 
will  then  get  off  an  incoherent  secular 
harangue  about  the  best  methods  of  irriga 
tion,  some  new  outlet  of  business  enter- 
prise, the  best  plan  of  growing  shade  trees, 
or  feeding  cattle  and  sheep — and  the 
moral  and  spiritual  duties  of  a  Latter  Day 
Saint. 

All  the  wards  of  the  city  concentrate 
their  worship  in  the  afternoon  to  a  rousing 
service  in  the  Tabernacle.  A  wonderful 
structure  this  is,  having  a  roof  over  it  like 
a  tortoise-shell  and  not  a  single  support 
under — a  building  that  seats  10,000  peo- 
ple. The  main  features  of  the  gathering 
here  is  the  presence  of  the  higher  digni- 
taries and  the  graded  priesthood  of  the 
Mormon  Church.  On  the  higher  seat  sits 
the  president,  and  by  his  side  the  two  coun- 
cillors. Below  him  the  twelve  apostles. 
The  third  tier  holds  the  president  of  the 
State  and  his  councillors  ;  the  fourth  and 
lowest  is  reserved  for  the  Aaronic  Priest- 
hood. Higher  up,  and  back  of  this 
galaxy  of  notables,  sits  the  400  voiced 
choir,  and  in  the  loftier  back  ground  poses 
the  great  organ,  with  its  67  stops  and 
2,648  pipes.  The  singing  is  world-famed. 
The  music  is  peculiar — it  has  a  prairie 


To  Alaska.  181 


wierdness  about  it  which  mellows  your 
feelings  rather  than  excites  them.  The 
audiences,  it  has  been  noted  by  all  tourists, 
are  made  up  of  very  common-looking 
faces.  Mormon  religion  and  Mormon 
practices  will  never  beget  a  people  of 
physical  beauty  or  of  intellectual  attrac- 
tiveness. 

Towering  over  all  the  city,  and  grandly 
imposing,  stands  forth  the  Mormon  Tem- 
ple. It  cost  $5,000,000,  and  it  lingered 
forty  years  in  building.  When  in  April 
of  1893  it  was  dedicated,  50,000  saints 
from  all  parts  of  the  Territory,  Canada, 
Mexico,  Arizona,  Colorado  and  ' '  the 
islands  of  the  sea  "  came  to  witness  it. 
On  the  top  of  it,  220  feet  aloft,  the  ma- 
jestic figure  of  the  angel  Mormoni,  de- 
livers the  trumpet  message  of  glad  tidings 
to  all  the  nations.  But  that  temple  is  a 
shrine  full  of  mystery,  for  the  Gentiles 
enter  it  not.  No  worship  is  held  within  it 
— only  ceremonial  acts  are  performed. 
All  Mormon  marriages  take  place  there, 
and  baptisms  for  the  dead.  There  is 
much  grandeur  and  beauty  in  its  many 
apartments,  and  it  has  something  of  a 
Masonic  secrecy  and  practice  about  it. 


1 82  Through   Wonderland 


Now  the  Endowment  House  close  by,  is 
a  plain,  unobtrusive  adobe  building,  two 
stories  high,  and  is  spoken  of  under  a 
whisper.  It  seems  to  be  the  place  of 
mysterious  marriage  engagements.  I  read 
an  expose  of  the  performance  in  it  by  a 
woman  who  passed  through  all  the  cere- 
mony and  was  sealed  to  man  for  time  and 
eternity,  and  I  would  risk  to  challenge 
any  secret  order  initiation  to  be  more  fan- 
ciful or  elaborate.  The  endowment 
clothes  are  fantastic — the  ceremony  is  full 
of  jargon  and  mummery — and  in  the 
World  and  Eden,  figure  Michael,  Bath- 
sheba,  Jehovah  and  the  Devil-Scenes  are 
enacted  and  hidden  colloquies  held,  the 
Melchizedeck  and  Aaronic  grips  given, 
and  performances  most  strange,  in  this 
<(  House  of  the  Lord."  He  who  swears 
in  here,  swears  by  Mormonism  above 
everything  else.  He  who  comes  out  of  it 
has  a  secret  celestial  name,  and  if  ever 
anything  of  this  house  is  divulged,  the 
curse  of  Heaven  will  fall  on  home  and 
death  as  well.  Whoever  divulges  the 
Aaronic  grip  and  oath  will  pay  the  penalty 
by  having  his  throat  cut  from  ear  to  ear, 
and  his  tongue  torn  from  his  mouth  ; 
whoever  divulges  the  Melchizedeck-grip 


To  Alaska.  183 


and  oath  will  pay  the  penalty  of  disem- 
bowelment. 

Mormonism  is  here  to  stay  ;  it  would 
seem,  Quakers  and  Dunkards  are  growing- 
less,  but  these  are  not.  Utah  will  attain 
to  Statehood  in  July  next,  and  then  it  will 
assume  political  prerogatives  which  have 
to  be  respected.  Brigham  Young  once 
was  the  fearless  Governor  of  Utah,  but 
with  voice  in  Congress  and  political  in- 
fluence at  home,  the  President  of  the 
Mormons  will  be  an  autocrat  in  a  free  Re- 
public. Woman  will  vote,  and  in  the  Mor- 
mon theatre,  where  the  last  County  conven- 
tion was  held,  was  given  the  clearest  ex- 
hibition of  the  unladylike  boldness  and 
unprincipled  practice  of  a  woman  in 
politics.  The  Mormon  woman  is  pushed 
to  the  front  in  Utah  politics.  At  the  next 
ekction  the  shrewdness  of  the  Mormon 
leaders  have  so  arranged  that  they  vote 
either  the  Republican  or  Democratic 
ticket.  It  matters  not  which  side  wins — 
Mormon  candidates  are  elected. 

So  henceforth  Mormonism  will  no  longer 
go  begging  as  a  persecuted  people.  Brig- 
ham  Young,  by  his  foresight  and  heroic 
leadership,  has  brought  his  State  to  a 
place  in  the  nation.  They  will  always  be 


1 84  Through    Wonderland 

a  strange  anomaly  in  religion,  and  a 
conundrum  to  the  world,  that  Church  and 
State  united  could  have  a  place  in  this 
great  Union. 


TRAVELING  THROUGH  THE 

SWITZERLAND  OF 

AMERICA. 

XXII. 

DENVER,  SEPT.  4,  1895. 
You  enter  Colorado  from  the  west,  and 
you  come  into  a  State  of  the  Union,  which 
affects  to  be  styled,  "The  Switzerland  of 
America."  If  the  Rockies  anywhere  on 
our  map  can  lay  claim  to  the  title  of  such 
a  scenic  wonder,  they  certainly  have  made 
the  boldest  attempt  of  imitation  right  here. 
But  it  is  not  Switzerland  after  all — it  is 
different,  it  is  more,  and  it  is  less.  It  has 
less  confusion  of  mountain- scenery,  it  im- 
presses one  more,  with  a  sort  of  classic 
feeling  in  its  chiselled  peaks  and  arched 
ravines.  It  has  sharp  and  wonderful  con- 
trasts. It  has  not  only  a  thousand  forms 
of  scenic  excitements — lakes  and  rivers, 
canyons  and  passes,  mountains  and  mesas  ; 
but  it  also  has  wonders  of  science,  and 
novel  contours  of  art.  It  inspires  an  im- 
aginary history  of  legend  and  story. 


1 86  Through  Wonderland 

The  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  railroad  is 
noted  to  be  the  greatest  river-bed  system 
in  the  world.  It  seems  to  have  the  in- 
stinct of  the  artist,  and  seeks  to  trail  amid 
the  landscape  wonders  of  nature  almost 
altogether.  Its  first-class  coaches  are  the 
climax  of  elegance.  They  are  a  series  of 
windows  and  beveled  plate  glass  mirrors, 
disclosing  panoramic  beauty  without,  and 
reflecting  antique  magnificence  within. 
The  platforms  are  lighted  by  brilliant  gas 
illuminators,  and  so  by  night  and  by  day 
one  rolls  along  in  a  pathway  made  brilliant 
by  art  and  by  nature. 

THROUGH    FAMOUS   CANYONS, 

You  can  climb  the  spiral  gateway  to  the 
Marshall  Pass,  and  bury  your  head  among 
the  clouds,  or,  if  you  prefer,  you  can  go 
the  way  of  Leadville,  the  most  elevated 
city  in  the  world — we  prefer  to  have  the 
io7,ooo-pound  locomotives  pull  us  the 
latter  way.  We  would  have  a  whiff  of 
the  hot  sulphur  vapor  of  Glenwood 
Springs,  and  share  a  little  of  our  sympathy 
with  the  invalids  who  linger  there.  Up 
and  down  we  go  in  undulating  curves  of 
grace — and  even  as  a  botanist  we  have 
our  paradise  on  hill  and  in  valley.  What 
gorgeousness  ! — the  wild  rose,  crocus  and 


to  Alaska.  187 


Vines,  the  mountain-myrtle  and  mountain  - 
daisy,  the  loco- weed  and  columbine  and 
Indian  tobacco — the  variety  inspires  the 
heart  of  the  herbarian  and  the  toxicolo- 
gist.  Soon,  over  these  scenes  of  variegated 
colorings  flits  one  object — just  a  moment, 
and  it  is  gone.  The  immaculate  outline 
of  the  Holy  Cross  appeals  to  you.  The 
snow-white  emblem  of  the  Christian  faith 
gleams  with  sweet  purity  against  the  azure 
sky  from  yonder  mountain  peak.  Two 
transverse  canyons  of  immense  depth  riven 
down  and  across  the  summit  are  filled  with 
eternal  snow,  and  describe  a  perfect 
symbol  of  the  Cross  as  the  ' '  sign  set  in 
the  heavens." 

"•  The  holy  cross  of  Christian  feith, 

Above  the  royal  velvet 
In  beauty  shines,  an  emblem  wraith, 

High  on  the  beetling  helmet ; 
Its  white  arms  stretching  through  the  sheen 

Of  silver  mist,  are  gleaming  ; 
A  talisman,  the  world  to  screen, 

Hope's  symbol,  in  its  seeming ; 
A  wonder  grand,  a  joy  serene, 

Upon  the  ages  beaming." 

Now  we  sweep  through  the  kaleido- 
scopic wonders  of  the  Black  Canyon. 
Only  a  little  streak  of  sky  looks  on  us, 
and  we  seem  to  see  a  spangled  belt  of 
stars  in  broad  day- light.  Miles  of  solid 


1 88  Through  Wonderland 

masonry — walls  of  God  !  A  grand  tem- 
ple of  sombre  shadows  ! — and  the  organ 
notes  of  centuries  mingle  with  the  roar  of 
the  maddened  river  that  rushes  through 
these  granite  gates  of  frowning  mien. 
There  stands  all  alone  the  Currecanti 
Needle,  some  cloud-girt  monument  of  the 
new- world  gods. 

The  Arkansas  rolls  on,  and  so  does  our 
train,  and  we  enter  the  Royal  Gorge. 
Snake-like  is  our  course  around  the 
amphitheatrical  breast-work  of  rock  upon 
rock.  Airy  pinnacles  stand  atop  in 
splintered  agony,  as  if  the  aged  thunders 
had  shattered  them.  What  a  crashing 
and  groaning  there  must  have  been,  when 
these  chasms  were  made.  Blood- red  are 
their  sides,  as  if  stained  by  the  oozing  of 
ancient  wounds — but  gorgeous  are  theyT 
as  the  sun  dashes  over  them  glittering 
warmth  of  fire.  The  iron  horse  snorts 
and  puffs  and  dashes  along  this  barricaded 
defile,  and  toys  with  every  rocky  picket 
that  stands  in  the  way — just  breaks  to  a 
side,  and  laughingly  makes  its  graceful 
detour,  and  comes  out,  without  a  scratch 
to  its  even  path  again. 


to  Alaska.  189 


FACE   TURNED   TOWARD   DENVER* 

We  halt  by  Colorado  Springs — the  most 
charming  little  city  of  all  our  travels.  It 
is  a  temperance  town,  has  a  wide  fame  as 
a  sanitarium,  and  is  essentially  a  place  of 
homes  for  the  genteel  and  also  the  rich. 
Twenty  millionaires  reside  on  one  single 
street.  The  lesser  lights  of  foreign  no- 
bility have  also  come  here  to  intermingle 
their  pride  of  blood  with  the  American 
pride  of  wealth.  The  climate  is  tempered 
by  the  sweet  canyon  breezes  which  come 
with  the  regularity  of  clock- time.  The 
driveways  are  by  nature  perfect,  and  much 
style  parades  on  the  roads  to  Manitou. 
Pike's  Peak  and  its  less  pretentious  com- 
peers have  built  up  the  background  to  the 
west.  What  a  ravishing  view  over  the 
velvety  lawn  of  the  Antlers  toward  sunset  ! 

Now  up  toward  the  Capitol  we  speed. 
On  the  summit  of  the  "  Divide  "  we  fall 
upon  a  vision  of  sylvan  beauty — Palmer 
Lake. 

"  Oh !  lake  of  beauty,  glen  of  sweet  content  J 

On  the  head-waters  of  the  Monument ; 

The  hills  that  hide  thee,  and  each  bosky  dell 

That  nestles  near  thee,  but  one  story  tell ; 

To  those  who  love  fair  Nature  when  she  waits 

And  smiles  a  welcome  at  the  open  gates, 

Where  Pleasure  stands  to  lead  to  leaf-robed  nooks 

And  sweet  delights  we  cannot  find  iu  books," 


i  go  Through  Wonderland 

To  Denver  we  have  come — the  '  *  Queen 
City  of  the  Plains/'  In  1858  it  was  born, 
when  the  Pike's  Peak  gold  excitement 
brought  the  rush  from  the  East  to  the 
junction  of  Cherry  Creek  and  the  Platte. 
Aurara  became  Denver,  and  a  handful  of 
people  have  become  160,000,  and  a  mining 
camp  has  been  converted  into  a  marvel  of 
elegant  buildings  and  business  enterprise 
Thirty-five  years  ago  its  only  diversion  for 
jaded  laborers  in  the  evening  was  the  fiddle 
and  the  dance  by  the  desert  camp  fire — now 
it  has  its  Tabor  Grand  Opera  House  worth 
$850,000.  Then  it  treated  its  visitors  to 
meal  on  felled  forest-trunk — now  it  invites 
the  traveler  to  the  * '  Brown  Palace, ' '  cost- 
ing $1,350,000.  So  are  cities  a  miracle 
in  the  West. 

Denver  is  the  right  arm  of  Colorado, 
and  though  crippled  by  the  panic  in  its 
pride  of  rapid  progress t  it  is  only  for  a 
time.  It  will  yield  20  per  cent,  more  gold 
this  year  than  California,  and  so  will  re- 
vive. It  is  a  city  of  perfected  modern 
improvements.  Its  asphalt  pavements 
and  parked  avenues,  with  street  lawns  and 
shade  trees,  give  it  a  sort  of  holiday  ap- 
pearance for  every  day.  It  has  fine  busi- 
ness structures  made  of  native  stones, 


to  Alaska.  191 


and  the  corridors  of  them  are  wainscoted 
with  Colorado  marble  and  onyx.  No  two 
homes  are  alike  in  architectural  design. 
It  is  making  a  beautiful  park  out  of  320 
acres  of  sand-soil,  and  it  is  being  embel- 
lished with  lakes  and  every  floral  and 
rustic  beauty  conceivable.  Its  young 
trees  prosper,  and  its  bicycle  track  and 
public  drive  draw  the  multitudes  to  enjoy 
the  sports  under  electric  light.  There  are 
18,000  bicyles  in  Denver,  and  the  wheelers 
have  a  twenty-five -mile  road  that  has 
never  a  distracting  pebble  on  it.  Eastern 
capital  has  built  its  largest  blocks,  but  the 
western  "gold-bug"  is  rolling  up  wealth, 
and  his  home,  and  enterprise,  is  in  Den 
ver.  It  is  pre-eminently  the  city  of  con- 
ventions, and  so  by  its  fame  of  royal  hos- 
pitality it  has  made  its  name  euphonious 
to  the  pleasure-seekers  of  the  nation. 
From  Denver  take  a  swing  of  a  thousand 
miles  k '  around  the  circle  • '  -and  be  con- 
vinced that  Colorado  and  the  Rockies  are 
but  Switzerland  transplanted,  and  only 
more  strangely  scattered  and  transformed. 


XXIII. 

HOMES  OF  THE 


STANLEY  WOOD. 


In  the  sad  Southwest,  in  the  mystical  Sunland, 

Far  from  the  toil  and  the  turmoil  of  gain  ; 
Hid  in  the  heart  of  the  only  —  the  one  land 

Beloved  of  the  Sun,  and  bereft  of  the  rain  ; 
The  one  weird  land  where  the  wild  winds  blowing, 

Sweep  with  a  wail  o'er  the  plains  of  the  dead, 
A  ruin,  ancient  beyond  all  knowing, 

Rears  its  head. 

On  the  canon's  side,  in  the  ample  hollow, 
That  the  keen  winds  carved  in  ages  past, 

The  Castle  walls,  like  the  nest  of  a  swallow, 
Have  clung  and  have  crumbled  to  this  at  last. 

The  ages  since  man's  foot  has  rested 
Within  these  walls,  no  man  may  know  ; 

For  here  the  fierce  grey  eagle  nested 
ago. 


A.bove  those  walls  the  crags  lean  over, 

Below,  they  dip  to  the  river's  bed  ; 
Between,  fierce-winged  creatures  hover, 

Beyond,  the  plain's  wild  waste  is  spread. 
No  foot  has  climbed  the  pathway  dizzy, 

That  crawls  away  from  the  blasted  heath, 
Since  last  it  felt  the  ever  busy 

Foot  of  Death. 

In  that  haunted  castle  —  it  must  be  haunted, 

For  men  have  lived  here,  and  men  have  died, 
And  maidens  loved,  and  lovers  daunted, 

Have  hoped  and  feared,  have  laughed  and  sighed- 
In  that  haunted  Castle  the  dust  has  drifted, 

But  the  t  agles  only  may  hope  to  see 
What  shattered  Shrines  and  what  Altars  rifted, 

There  may  be. 


To  Alaska.  193 


The  white,  bright  rays  of  the  sunbeam  sought  it, 

The  cold,  clear  light  of  the  moon  fell  here, 
The  west  wind  sighed,  and  the  south  wind  brought  it, 

Songs  of  Summer  vear  after  year. 
Runes  of  Summer,  but  mute  and  runeless, 

The  Castle  stood  ;  no  voice  was  heard, 
Save  the  harsh,  discordant,  wild  and  tuneless 

Cry  of  bird. 

The  spring  rains  poured,  and  the  torrent  rifted 

A  deeper  way  ;— the  foam-flakes  fell, 
Held  for  a  moment  poised  and  lifted, 

Down  to  a  fiercer  whirlpool's  hell. 
On  the  Castle  tower  no  guard,  in  wonder, 

Paused  in  his  marching  to  and  fro. 
For  on  the  turret  the  mighty  thunder 

Found  no  foe. 

No  voice  of  Spring— no  Summer  glories 

May  wake  the  warders  from  their  sleep, 
Their  graves  are  made  by  the  sad  Dolores, 

And  the  barren  headlands  of  Hoven-weep. 
Their  graves  are  nameless— their  race  forgotten', 

Their  deeds,  their  words,  their  fate,  are  one 
With  the  mist,  long  ages  past  begotten, 

Of  the  Sun. 

Those  castled  cliffs  they  made  their  dwelling, 

They  lived  and  loved,  they  fought  and  fell, 
No  faint,  far  voice  comes  to  us  telling 

More  than  those  crumbling  walls  can  tell. 
They  lived  their  life,  their  fate  fulfilling, 

Then  drew  their  last  faint,  faltering  breath, 
Their  hearts,  congealed,  clutched  by  the  chilling 

Hand  of  Death. 

Dismantled  towera,  and  turrets  broken, 

lyike  grim  and  war-worn  braves  who  keep 
A  silent  guard,  with  grief  unspoken 

Watch  o'er  ihe  graves  by  the  Hoven-weep. 
The  nameless  graves  of  a  race  forgotten  ; 

Whose  deeds,  whose  words,  whose  fate  are  one 
With  the  mist,  long  ages  past  begotten, 

Of  the  Sun. 


TWO  MOUNTAIN  VIEWS,  ONE 

EARTHWARD,  THE  OTHER 

HEAVENWARD. 

XXIV. 

READING,  SEPT.  23,  1895. 

Two  mountain-views  in  my  recent  travels 
were  very  suggestive  to  me.  Pike's  Peak 
showed  to  me  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth 
below,  and  Mt.  Hamilton,  with  its  Lick 
telescope,  showed  to  me  the  glories  of  the 
heavens  above.  I  thought  of  Christ's 
mountain-view,  when  the  kingdoms  of  the 
earth  were  temptingly  disclosed  before 
Him,  and  of  John's  mountain-view,  when., 
he  saw  Jerusalem  descending  out  of  the 
heavens. 

Mountains  stand  for  that  which  is  great- 
est and  mightiest  in   the  material  world 
From   the  extended   plain  they  rise,  and 
oft  in  snow-decked  peaks,  stand   forth  in 
solitary  magnificence — the  awful  testimony  , 
of  that  Power  which  laid  the   foundations 
of  the  earth,  and  stretched  out  the  heavens 
like  a  curtain. 


to  Alaska.  195 


The  Psalmist  sang — "The  mountains 
and  the  hills  praise  the  Lord."  They 
have  been  the  theatre  of  the  most  glorious 
manifestations  of  God.  We  think  of  the 
flood,  and  the  mountain  peaks  were  the 
first  to  hail  the  ark  of  refuge  to  its  safe 
moorings.  When  Abraham  was  called  to 
his  greatest  trial,  he  was  directed  to  the 
silent  heights  of  the  mountain.  When 
God  would  deliver  His  law  to  man,  He 
selected  the  cloud-enveloped  peak  of  Sinai. 
When  Moses  went  to  his  grave,  he  as- 
cended Nebo's  lonely  mountain.  The 
most  conspicuous  acts  of  our  Lord  cling 
to  the  mountains — we  speak  with  distinc- 
tion of  the  Mts.  of  Temptation,  of  Trans- 
figuration, of  Ascension,  of  Prayer. 

There  are  those  who  accept  the  moun- 
tains for  their  scenic  grandeur,  but  dismiss 
them  as  of  no  particular  use  to  the  earth 
— "It  would  be  better  if  it  were  all  a 
plain."  Now,  mountains  are  but  the 
frozen  waves  of  a  world  of  fire — yet, 
when  they  came  — God  "weighed  the 
mountains  in  scales. ' '  They  have  come -of 
upheavals  later  than  creation,  and  though 
they  extend  in  eccentric  ranges,  yet  they 
were  balanced  for  their  proper  places. 
More  than  all,  they  are  the  great  treasure 


196  Through  Wonderland 


houses  of  the  earth— and  the  source  of 
life.  Not  only  were  the  minerals  upturned 
from  the  depths  for  man  to  find — but  they 
are  the  water-reservoirs  for  the  valleys. 
They  influence  climate,  mitigate  the  cold 
or  heat,  and  direct  the  course  of  the 
winds.  They  are  the  origin  of  the  mag- 
nificent system  of  rivers.  Level  the 
Andes,  and  where  would  the  Amazon  be 
for  South  America  ?  Take  away  the  Alps, 
and  the  Rhone  and  Po  would  dry  up  in 
Europe,  Erase  the  Rockies  and  the  Miss- 
issippi would  stop  rolling  on.  Where  green 
valleys  are,  we  would  have  deserts  instead. 
They  are  the  homes  of  plants  and  animals 
that  can  live  nowhere  else,  and  for  the 
grandeur  of  their  scenery  alone — they  are 
among  the  choicest  objects  of  the  material 
world. 

A    VIEW    FROM    PIKE'S    PEAK. 

One  of  the  passions  of  a  traveler  is  to 
climb  mountains.  So  eager  is  he  to  have 
it  known  that  he  made  thrilling  ascents 
that  he  will  carve  his  name  upon  lofty  pro- 
jecting rocks  for  posterity  to  read.  The 
more  danger  he  can  woo  the  greater  will 
be  his  achievement.  Attached  to  each 
other  by  ropes,  guides  and  adventurers 
again  dared  to  climb  over  the  snowy  preci- 


To  Alaska.  197 


pices  of  the  Matterhorn.  There  is  a  feel- 
ing too  we  have  of  getting  a  loftier  and 
more  far-reaching  view  of  the  world  and 
things.  Now,  that  is  a  noble  inspiration. 
If  our  natures  were  more  lifted  up,  and 
we  could  view  life  from  a  higher  stand- 
point, with  a  more  liberal  heart  and  a 
more  expanded  mind,  the  world  would 
soon  be  made  a  brighter  spot  for  us  and 
for  the  rest  of  mankind. 

Pike's  Peak  was  discovered  by  Major 
Pike,  November  13,  1806.  Mrs.  Holmes 
was  the  first  woman  to  stand  on  its  sum- 
mit in  1859.  It  rears  its  head  over  14,- 
ooo  feet  from  the  village  of  Manitou  in 
Colorado.  The  ascent  has  lately  been 
made  easy  by  a  cog-wheel  railroad  nine 
miles  long.  Its  average  grade  is  844.8 
feet  to  the  mile.  The  track  has  146  an- 
chors embedded  in  solid  rock  to  hold  it 
fast.  The  toothed  wheels  run  in  a  con- 
tinuous double  ladder  in  the  centre  of  the 
track,  and  each  tooth  is  within  the  5Oth 
part  of  an  inch  of  the  specified  size.  The 
four-cylinder  Vanclain  compound  locomo- 
tive puffs  along  these  dangerous  heights. 
Above  the  timber  line  you  have  come  by 
faith — and  along  the  snow-lines  you  begin 
to  breathe  at  a  quick  pace — the  high  pres- 


198  Through  Wonderland 

sure  of  air  drives  the  pulse  to  120,  the 
head  swims  for  some,  and  others  faint. 

But  the  summit  is  reached,  and  the  trip 
reminds  one  of  Jules  Verne's  romances. 
Water  boils  up  there  at  184  degrees 
Fahrenheit,  and  of  course  with  such  at- 
mospheric conditions  the  human  body  is 
exercised  by  the  strangest  feelings.  The 
world  now  lies  before  you,  viewed  from  the 
region  of  eternal  desolation.  A  mighty 
panorama  of  40,000  square  miles  spreads 
out  before  you— and  away  to  150  miles 
you  see — the  plain  looks  like  an  ocean 
resting  at  your  feet. 

Well,  what  of  it?  Why,  you  feel 
humble  for  once  in  your  life — and  you 
realize  that  there  is  nothing  great  but  God. 
Up  higher  !  ye  souls — get  the  world  be- 
neath you,  under  your  feet,  and  you  will 
have  a  grander  prophetic  vision  of  God 
and  His  purposes.  Live  along  the  level 
of  the  earth  and  you  see  nothing.  Get  to 
the  mountain  tops  of  faith  and  love  and 
aspirations,  their  life  will ,  be  more  than  a 
drudgery  to  your  conception — it  will  be 
the  radiant  possibility  of  eternal  happi- 
ness. 

Not  only  the  poet  sits  up  there  to  muse, 
but  the  religious  philosopher  as  well.  At 


To  Alaska.  199 


the  base  of  the  mount  are  healing  springs, 
at  Glenwood  they  gush  forth  as  hot  bath- 
ing pools.  How  the  sick  gather  to  drink 
and  to  wash,  to  be  healed  !  Alas!  who 
is  not  soul-sick  ?  God  has  his  spiritual 
pool  of  silvan — wash  and  be  clean  !  He 
to-day  says  :  "  Ho,  every  one  that 
thirsteth,  come  ye  to  the  waters  " — 4tl 
will  give  unto  him  that  is  athirst  of  the 
fountain  of  the  water  of  life  freely."  The 
hot  springs  and  the  mineral  waters  are  not 
in  all  your  reach,  who  need  Him — but  the 
Fountain  of  Life  is.  .  Come  and  be  healed. 
I  came  down  from  the  mountain-peak, 
and  then  I  was  lured  aside,  into .  the 
"  Garden  of  the  Gods,"  which  I  had 
espied  from  above.  Now,  that  sounds 
more  like  Athens  than  scriptural  Paradise, 
and  it  would  seem  as  if  we  were  going  to 
invoke  the  divinities  of  Greece  and  Rome 
rather  than  the  God  of  Heaven.  It  is  a 
region  passing  strange,  into  which  you 
enter,  to  find  rocks  out  at  masquerading 
in  absurd  characters.  Red  and  yellow 
sandstone  have  been  upheaved  to  fill  a 
wide  plain  with  the  imitations  of  animals 
and  things  in  the  weird  and  grotesque 
silence  of  stone.  It  looks  as  if  some  giant 
sculptor  of  another  world  had  been  at 


2oo  Through    Wonderland 

work  here.  You  see  the  baggage-room 
with  Saratoga  trunks,  the  mush-room 
park  with  toad  stools  ;  the  anvil,  the 
hound's  head,  the  lizard,  the  barrel  with 
hoops,  the  cauliflower  bed,  the  washer- 
woman, the  rhinocerus,  Punch  and  Judy, 
the  kissing  camels,  the  bride  and  groom, 
the  shipwreck,  the  three  graces,  the  lady 
of  the  garden,  the  cathedral  spires,  the 
balancing  rock- — and  a  garden-full  of  fan- 
tastic shapes  and  caricatures  hundreds  of 
feet  in  the  air.  It  is  a  gigantic  peep-show 
in  pantomime.  But  it  is  a  picture  of  sur- 
passing beauty  to  look  back  upon — the 
brilliant  terra-cotta  red  of  this  garden, 
having  as  a  back-ground,  the  green  moun- 
tain range,  and  snowy  Pike's  Peak  above, 
and  over  all  the  Colorado  blue  sky — it  is 
artistic;  and  gorgeous.  The  poetic  fancy 
of  Helen  Hunt  Jackson  so  baptized  it — 
by  way  of  association  I  thought  of  the 
'  *  Garden  of  God. ' '  Paul  speaks  of  those 
who  are  "  without  God  in  the  world,"  but 
who  hardly  are  without  gods.  We  walk 
oftener  in  the^garden  of  thefgods,  than  in 
the  "Garden  of  the  Lord."  We  have 
many  idols  and  deities — but  often  no  Lord. 


to  Alaska.  201 


MT.    HAMILTON'S  SURVEY   OF   HEAVEN. 

Now  I  will  speak  to  you  of  a  mountain- 
view  heavenward,  which  I  shall  never  for- 
get. From  the  heights  of  Hamilton  in 
the  Sierra  range  of  California  I  looked 
through  the  largest  telescope  of  the  world. 
On  another  occasion  I  gave  a  description 
of  the  observatory  and  the  history  of  the 
$700,000,  given  by  James  Lick,  ior  this 
scientific  purpose.  Other  observatories 
of  Greenwich,  of  Harvard  college,  of 
Paris,  of  Pulkowa  (St.  Petersburg >,  of 
Rio  Janeiro,  of  Washington,  D.  C.,  may 
have  greater  endowments — but  none  has 
such  a  clear  sky  as  that  which  overhangs 
Mt.  Hamilton,  4,443  feet  above  sea-level 

I  never  had  such  an  appreciation  of  the 
science  of  astronomy  as  when  standing 
amid  these  appliances  and  these  records 
of  achievement.  Anyhow,  it  is  the  oldest 
science  of  man — it  was  most  natural  for 
him  to  become  acquainted  with  the  stars 
at  once.  The  Psalmist  was  a  star-gazer, 
he  slept  as  a  shepherd  under  the  midnight 
heavens.  We  know  more  of  the  number 
and  magnitude  and  distances  of  the 
heavenly  bodies — but  with  all  our  instru- 
ments we  are  no  nearer  knowing  every- 
thing than  the  ancient  was.  In  olden 


2O2  Through  Wonderland 

times  the  study  of  the  stars  was  a  re- 
ligion, and  those  burning  orbs  had  become 
gods,  good  and  evil.  But  now  the  scientific 
astronomer  has  displaced  the  Egyptian 
and  Chaldean  sage  with  his  superstition, 
and  we  study  the  heavens  as  the  hand- 
work of  God.  The  eternal  fixedness  of 
those  stars  !  From  century  to  century 
their  fires  never  went  out,  and  though  the 
earth  has  had  many  changes,  the  stars 
above  seem  immutable  through  the  ages. 
Suddenly  you  see  a  fiery  flash,  and  it 
seems  as  if  the  largest  of  the  hosts  of 
Heaven  had  fallen.  It  was  no  star — only 
a  meteor — it  was  in  comparison  only  as 
the  dew-drop  to  the  ocean. 

My  first  look  on  that  night  was  through 
the  12-inch  equatorial.  The  telescope 
brought  me  Venus.  Now  it  is  the  morn- 
ing, then  it  is  the  evening  star.  To  the 
naked  eye  it  is  only  a  little  planet,  and  the 
telescope  discloses  it  more  brilliant — but 
who  would  think  it  was  nearly  the  size  of 
the  earth — 7,800  miles  in  diameter,  and 
its  nearest  point  27,000,000  miles  away 
from  us. 

Next  we  lowered  the  telescope  and 
captured  Saturn.  That  is  the  most  won- 
derful and  magnificent  spectacle  of  the 


to  Alaska.  203 


solar  system.  It  is  1,000  times  the  size 
of  the  earth,  and  is  906,000,000  of  miles 
away  from  the  sun.  And  the  telescope 
brought  it  so  near  that  I  could  see  its 
marvellous  formation.  I  wonder  what 
Galileo  thought  when  he  first  saw  it? 
There  are  three  broad,  flat,  thin,  concen- 
tric rings  that  surround  it,  lying  in  the 
same  plane,  and  barely  separated.  Yet 
the  first  ring  is  21,000  miles  wide,  and  is 
separated  from  the  next  ring  by  1,790 
miles.  The  second  ring  is  34,000  miles 
away,  and  is  away  from  the  planet  20,000 
miles.  Each  ring  rotates  separate  from 
the  planet,  and  Saturn  is  accompanied  by 
eight  large  moons.  Now  when  this  sys- 
tem of  planets  is  viewed  under  motion, 
when  moons  rise  and  set — half  moons  and 
full  moons — what  a  nocturnal  spectacle  to 
behold  ! 

But  with  silent  awe  I  stepped  into  the 
large  dome,  and  there  saw  the  thirty-six 
equatorial,  the  large  telescope.  What 
scientific  'knowledge  !  what  mechanical 
ingenuity  it  required  to  build  ! 

It  reached  up  to  the  open  roof  and 
looked  for  Hercules — the  largest  nebulae 
in  the  northern  sky.  The  naked  eye  saw 
a  lonely  star — but  the  telescope  showed 


204  Through  Wonderland 

that  star  to  be  a  thousand  suns,  with  each 
sun  a  system  of  planets,  such  as  ours  has. 
What  feelings  are  stirred  as  that  mighty 
instrument  is  moved  across  a  span  of  sky, 
all  powdered  with  stars  !  but  at  last  you 
find  that  one  star  to  be — "a  cluster  in 
Hercules." 

That  midnight  ride  down  the  steep  de- 
clivities was  dangerous — but  my  thought 
was  lost  in  the  continuous  gaze  to  the 
starry  heavens — I  only  looked  up.  I  had 
felt  a  little  proud  of  my  long  journey,  and 
the  wonders  I  had  seen — but  now  I  was 
humble.  I  calculated — supposing  I  wanted 
to  take  a  trip  to  Saturn,  a  planet  in  our 
system,  going  on  the  train  that  might 
bring  me  from  Philadelphia  straight  to  Mt, 
Hamilton.  Well,  at  the  rate  of  30  miles 
an  hour,  I  would  have  to  travel  a  million 
times  that  distance — and  I  would  get  there 
after  2,000  years.  Our  sun  is  more  than 
a  million  times  as  large  as  the  earth — and 
yet  one  star  in  Pleiades  is  equal  in  glory 
to  1,200  suns. 

On  and  on  rolled  the  four-in-hand  adown 
Mt.  Hamilton's  side.  I  feared  nothing — 
but  my  heart  was  full  of  gratefulness  for 
the  telescope.  With  the  microscope  at 
hand,  it  can't  make  of  us  skeptics.  If 


to  Alaska.  205 


the  one  shows  us  that  the  worlds  above  us 
are  infinite,  the  other  shows  that  the 
worlds  below  us  are  also  infinite.  Are 
those  worlds  inhabited  ?  Let  that  be  a 
thought  now — what  an  easy  analogy  to 
prove  the  reality.  Then  I  thought  of  the 
one  central  throne  around  which  all  suns 
and  systems  revolve,  and  from  the  dark- 
ness around  me,  a  voice  seemed  to  say — 
4  '  Canst  thou  by  searching  find  out  God  ? 
Canst  thou  find  out  the  Almighty  to  per- 
fection ?  It  is  high  as  Heaven, — what 
canst  thou  do  ?  Deeper  than  hell, — what 
canst  thou  know?"  But  I  comforted 
myself  with  the  assurance — this  God  who 
made  all  things,  is  even  my  Father. 


XXV. 

THE  GARDEN  OF  THE  GODS, 


WILLIAM   ALLEN   BUTLER, 


Beneath  the  rocky  peak  that  hides 

In  clouds  its  snow-flecked  crest, 
Within  these  crimson  crags  abides 

An  Orient  in  the  West. 
These  tints  of  flame,  these  myriad  dyes. 

This  Eastern  desert  calm, 
Should  catch  the  gleam  of  Syrian  skies, 

Or  shade  of  Egypt's  palm. 

As  if  to  bar  the  dawn's  first  light 

These  ruby  gates  are  hung  ; 
As  if  from  Sinai's  frowning  height 

These  riven  tablets  flung. 
But  not  the  Orient's  drowsy  gaze, 

Young  Empire's  opening  lids 
Greet  these  strange  shapes,  of  earlier  days 

Than  Sphinx  or  Pyramids. 

Here  the  New  West  its  wealth  unlocks, 

And  tears  the  veil  aside, 
Which  hides  the  mystic  glades  and  rocks 

The  red  man  deified. 
This  greensward,  girt  with  tongues  of  flamef 

With  spectral  pillars  strewn, 
Not  strangely  did  the  savage  name 

A  haunt  of  gods  unknown. 

Hard  by  the  gentle  Manitou 

His  healing  fountains  poured  ; 
Blood-red,  against  the  cloudless  blue, 

These  storm-tossed  Titans  soared. 


to  Alaska.  207 


With  torrents  wild  and  tempest  blast, 

And  fierce  volcanic  fires, 
In  secret  moulds  has  Nature  cast 

Her  monoliths  and  spires. 

Their  shadows  linger  where  we  tread, 

Their  beauty  fills  the  place  ; 
A  broken  shrine— its  votaries  fled— 

A  spurned  and  vanished  race. 
Untouched  by  Time  the  garden  gleams, 

Unplucked  the  wild  flower  shines, 
And  the  scarred  summit's  rifted  seams 

Are  bright  with  glistening  pines. 

And  still  the  guileless  heart  that  waits 

At  Nature's  feet  may  find, 
Within  the  rosy,  sun-lit  gates, 

A  hidden  glory  shrined. 
His  presence  feel  to  whom,  in  fear, 

Untaught,  the  savage  prayed, 
And,  listening  in  the  garden,  hear 

His  voice,  nor  be  afraid. 


A  STUDY  OF    THE    CHINAMAN— 
THE  DANGER  OF  IMMI- 
GRATION, 

XXVI, 

READING,  SEPT.  30,  1895. 

Lay  down  the  map  of  the  world,  and 
there  is  no  land  marked  on  it,  to  which 
the  finger  of  God  points  as  conspicuously 
as  to  America,  Write  across  it — Oppor- 
tunity !  It  really  would  seem  as  if  God's 
last  plan  for  the  human  race  were  to  be 
worked  out  here. 

It  has  been  the  Mecca  for  the  pilgrimage 
of  the  nations  of  the  earth — it  has  been 
the  scene  of  the  greatest  immigration  in 
the  history  of  the  world.  In  that  way 
the  land  was  first  possessed,  and  the  early 
immigrant  is  our  ancestor.  He  was,  how- 
ever, of  God's  elect  for  the  new  world, 
and  the  command  was — "  defile  not  there- 
fore the  land  which  ye  shall  inhabit, 
wherein  I  dwell/'  When  we  speak  of 
the  early  immigrant,  we  speak  of  our  fore- 
fathers. They  were  of  the  best  stock  in 
Europe.  When  they  came  they  brought 


To  Alaska.  209 


with  them  the  Sacred  Book,  the  sanctity 
of  the  Sabbath,  the  Christian  civilization. 
They  came  hither  for  conscience  sake  and 
for  a  new  home,  to  be  fostered  under  the 
care  of  a  liberty-loving  government.  They 
made  the  history  for  the  first  pages  of  the 
new  Republic,  and  they  set  the  example 
of  the  genuine  American  citizen.  They 
possessed  the  land  for  a  heritage  to  their 
children — and  we  are  their  offspring. 
They  wrote  their  names  on  rocks,  and  in- 
termingled them  with  the  waters  and 
valleys  and  mountains,  that  they  might  be 
among  us  forever.  They  impressed  their 
character  and  religion  and  heroism  upon 
our  civil  institutions,  and  transmitted 
country  and  government  to  us  with  God's 
mandate — "  Defile  not  therefore  the  land 
which  ye  shall  inhabit,  wherein  I  dwell.'* 
But  the  immigrant  of  to-day  is  of  a  new 
type,  and  he  does  not  bear  the  same  salu- 
tary relation  to  America.  He  has  become 
the  burning  question  of  political  economy, 
the  subject  of  special  legislation,  and  the 
theme  of  injured  patriotism  in  the  rostrum 
and  the  pulpit.  The  danger  with  Ameri- 
cans to  day  is,  that  they  revel  too  much 
in  the  self-complacent  thought  of  our 
country's  inherent  greatness,  and  are 


2i o  Through  Wonderland 

blind  to  the  perils  that  are  at  work  among 
the  foundations  upon  which  its  hope  of 
perpetuity  rests.  One  of  its  greatest 
dangers  lies  in  immigration. 

We  had  hoped  that  the  old  country 
would,  ere  this  time,  stem  the  tide  of  the 
outgoing  masses.  But  the  same  expellent 
forces  are  yet  at  work  over  there.  The 
poor  man  has  been  offered  no  better 
chance  for  himself  and  his  children  ;  he 
drudges  along  as  of  old,  and  pays  in- 
creased ' '  blood-tax  ' '  for  the  army.  Many 
would  escape  the  Socialistic,  Nihilistic, 
Imperialistic  revolutions  of  society  and 
state,  and  more  would  flee  the  slavery  of 
enlistment.  The  New  Land  more  than 
ever  charms  the  crowded  masses  by  the 
wide  prairie-fields,  and  extended  river 
beds,  with  the  chance  of  plenty  of  room, 
and  more  to  eat,  and  so  they  come. 
Then,  too,  the  railroads  and  steam-lines 
vie  with  each  other  to  carry  the  immi- 
grant— the  cheapest  passage  from  Europe 
to  America  is  no  longer  $100 — the  steerage 
passenger  pays  only  $8  from  Liverpool. 
With  such  liberal  transportation,  the 
honest  hard-working  peasant  may  come, 
and  the  hundreds  of  thousands  of  the 


to  Alaska.  211 


tramp  and  criminal  class  do  come.     There 
lies  the  evil. 

THE    PERILS    OF    IMMIGRATION. 

The  typical  immigrant  to-day  is  the 
peasant  and  the  criminal.  Whatever  may 
be  your  theory  of  a  wholesale  transplant- 
ing of  the  foreigner,  a  true  observer  must 
admit  that  the  tide  comes  in  too  fast. 
That  we  have  room  enough  is  not  the 
question — we  can  place  one  billion  people  ; 
but  America  with  all  its  missionary  forces 
cannot  remould  this  foreign  element  fast 
enough  and  assimilate  it  into  its  genius  of 
government.  TJie  question  at  our  door 
is— shall  the  stranger  foreignize  us,  or 
shall  we  Americanize  the  stranger  ?  In 
seven  years  we  had  more  arrivals  from 
foreign  shores  than  we  had  people  in 
colonies.  Lord  Salisbury  had  the  charity 
to  think  of  America,  very  much  as  the 
Russian  Czar  does  of  Siberia- — a  fit 
place  for  the  troublesome  element  of  so- 
ciety. He  said  in  a  public  speech,  "  the 
best  way  to  reform  Ireland  is  to  export 
the  Irish  to  America."  So  in  1887  no 
less  than  56,670  Irishmen  came  over.  In 
the  same  year  45,977  Englishmen,  81,864 
Germans  and  300,000  of  other  nationalities 
arrived  in  Castle  Garden.  At  our  present 


212  Through  Wonderland 

rate  of  increase,  we  will  in  1900  have  in 
this  country  over  18,000,000  foreigners, 
and  at  least  22,000,000  children  of  foreign 
parentage,  or  40,000,000  out  of  80,000,- 
ooo  inhabitants,  who  are  not  Americans, 
to  American  sympathy  born  and  bred. 
Rome  as  a  centralized  government  might 
have  been  able  to  manage  such  a  homoge- 
neous element  thrust  upon  its  shores — but 
we  are  a  local  government,  with  state- 
rights,  in  which  the  people  are  the  repre- 
sentative rulers  ;  and  where  inhabitants 
are  not  bound  together  by  local  sympathy, 
and  by  a  community  of  ideas  they  cannot 
assimilate,  and  who  therefore  cannot 
maintain  such  a  kind  of  government. 

Of  course  the  large  proportion  of  this 
foreign  mass,  is  not  only  new  among  us, 
but  very  anomalous.  Its  influence  upon 
society  is  one  of  the  great  danger-points. 
Among  us  is  the  citizen  of  foreign-birth 
who  is  found  in  the  learned  professions  or 
successful  business  walks.  Notwithstand- 
ing his  Christian  protest,  we  have  to  fear  the 
Europeanizing  of  our  Sabbath.  This 
tendency  is  not  of  the  children  of  the  early 
immigrants.  Facts  show  us  that  the  crim- 
inal records  preponderate  largely  toward 
the  foreign  population.  Analyze  the 


To  Alaska.  213 


hoodlum  element  of  your  cities,  and  trace 
their  birth.  The  inmates  of  your  prisons 
and  work-houses  and  houses  of  correction 
are  seventy-six  per  cent,  foreign-born.  Of 
the  unfortunate  insane  in  this  State,  5,000 
of  the  6,000  are  of  foreign  extraction, 
and  as  our  laws  admit  this  burden  of  other 
lands,  you  and  I  pay  the  taxes  for  it. 

Look  at  the  political  evil — our  rabble- 
ruled  cities.  The  total  foreign  population 
of  New  York  City  is  eighty  per  cent.,  if 
you  include  children.  In  1900  there  will 
be  25,000,000  foreigners  west  of  the  Miss- 
issippi. The  vote  of  the  great  western 
and  eastern  cities  is  a  marketable  one — 
the  immigration  vote  is  bought  in  blocks, 
and  Presidents  are  made  and  unmade  by 
it.  We  have  the  Mormon  vote,  the  Irish 
vote,  the  German  vote,  the  Catholic  vote, 
the  Socialistic  vote — and  you  can  write 
immigration  on  all  of  them.  They  cast 
their  ballots  with  the  great  parties  of  the 
country,  one  or  the  other,  and  they  go  in 
the  mass — but  there  is  a  party-bid  for 
them. 

The  problem  of  protection  to  American 
labor  lies  at  the  door  of  Castle  Garden. 
The  greater  the  immigration,  the  greater 
the  protection  to  the  employer,  and  the 


214  Through  Wonderland 

smaller  the  protection  to  the  employee. 
The  only  direct  corrective  for  the  perils  to 
our  country  by  immigration  lies  with  Con- 
gress. Give  us  a  law  of  restriction — a 
law  of  plain  Saxon  honesty,  and  simplicity 
of  interpretation.  Under  this  law  pass 
another  iron-clad  one — a  law  of  discrimi- 
nation. If  foreigners  henceforth  come  to 
us  we  want  to  say  what  kind  shall  come. 
One  other  law  pass,  and  we  are  saved. 
Expect  every  foreigner  to  be  Americanized 
if  he  would  be  an  American  citizen  ;  make 
him  give  an  intelligent  answer,  at  least  to 
the  meaning  of  the  Fourth  of  July,  when 
he  gets  his  naturalization  papers — and  de- 
mand of  him  to  be  a  resident  seven  years 
before  he  casts  his  vote.  The  son  of  an 
American  born  may  graduate  with  honors 
from  the  highest  college  in  the  land  at  18 
years  of  age,  and  must  wait  three  years 
more  before  he  dare  vote,  whilst  the 
ignorant  Hun  or  any  other  casts  his  ballot 
for  the  ruler  of  the  country  almost  as  soon 
as  he  sets  foot  on  our  shore.  Restrict  ! 
Discriminate  ! — and  let  the  immigrant 
vote  when  he  is  American  enough  to  vote. 

THE    CHINAMAN    AS    IMMIGRANT. 

My  journey  to  our  western  land  led  me 
to  the  study  of  the  Mongolian  as  an  imnii- 


To  Alaska.  215 


grant— particularly  the  Chinaman.  That 
there  should  be  such  a  distinctive  thing  as 
a  "  Chinatown,"  is  already  typical  of  the 
disintegration  of  the  cementing  idea  of  a 
country  of  self-government.  So  we  have 
little  Mormons,  little  Irelands,  little  Scan- 
dinavians, little  Germanics,  and  the  like 
scattered  up  and  down  in  America.  This 
is  natural,  but  unfortunate — for  by  this 
foster-spirit  of  separateness,  the  foreigner 
cherishes  to  carry  his  language  and  cus- 
toms, and  nationality,  as  a  distinct  factor, 
into  our  politics  and  government.  The 
Hollander  is  not  reckoned  among  the  im- 
migrants— for  he  settled  the  Dutch  Colony 
at  Albany,  and  then  stopped  migrating. 
The  Scandinavians  are  perhaps  the  best 
type  of  immigrants  all  through,  who  come 
with  the  great  mass  to  our  shore.  The 
Chinaman  is  least  to  be  feared,  for  he 
cares  nothing  for  America,  only  for  the 
American  dollar.  He  is  not  a  menace  to 
American  institutions,  only  to  American 
labor.  This  is  the  land  of  oriental  vision. 
But  for  restriction  of  Chinese  immigration, 
hordes  of  those  360,000,000,  would  have 
swept  upon  our  western  shore.  As  it  is, 
there  are  now  75,000  Chinese  in  California 


216  through    Wonderland 

alone,  of  which  number  20,000  are  in  San 
Francisco. 

It  has  become  the  fashion  to  disparage 
the  Chinese  as  a  people  of  resources  and 
ability,  and  to  praise  the  Japanese  as  their 
great  superiors.  The  success  of  arms  and 
the  advantage  of  a  borrowed  civilization 
is  the  cause  of  this  popular  opinion. 
Under  Gocl's  providence,  China  is  the 
supreme  thought  of  every  European  power 
to-day.  The  road  of  a  Christian  civiliza- 
tion only  leads  by  way  of  Japan  into 
China — and  of  China,  among  Oriental  na- 
tions, the  historian  will  yet  have  to  write 
— "  the  last  shall  be  first. " 

The  Chinese  has  his  great  scholar  and 
his  wonderful  literature — therefore  great 
mental  capabilities.  He  has  skill,  and  is 
inimitable  in  his  original  arts.  Industry, 
patience  and  love  of  detail  make  him  suc- 
ceed anywhere.  He  is  self-possessed  and 
has  wonderful  adaptability.  The  Japanese 
is  a  great  imitator — the  Chinese  is  some- 
thing more — he  is  the  Yankee  of  the 
Orient. 

But  he  is  not  liked  on  the  Pacific  coast, 
for  he  has  gotten  to  be  very  omni-present 
there.  Though  legislated  against,  he  is 
yet  universally  employed.  As  a  servant, 


to  Alaska.  217 


he  is  the  wood-cutter,  street-cleaner,  house 
menial,  hotel  help,  and  its  most  expert 
chef.  He  is  more  than  a  laundry  man  ;  he 
is  in  the  salmon  canneries  of  the  Columbia 
river — has  the  best  truck  gardens  outside 
of  cities — owns  the  fruit  wagons  into  the 
Yosernite,  runs  the  largest  butchering 
business — is  the  expert  grape  gatherer, 
because  of  nimble  fingers — builds  rail- 
roads, and  repairs  roads,  attends  in  the 
barber-shop  and  at  the  public  bath — he  is 
apt,  industrious  and  patient  everywhere. 

But  the  Chinaman  will  hardly  help  to 
embellish  America,  to  expand  its  resources 
or  to  enrich  it.  He  does  not  come  to 
stay.  He  sends  all  his  money  back  to 
China,  even  the  dead  bones  of  his  friend. 
Nor  can  you  Americanize  him.  The 
highest  Chinese  official  may  don  the 
civilized  garb — but  his  family  will  not. 
You  can't  easily  Christianize  him.  His 
religion  is  the  worship  of  ancestors,  and 
its  practices  are  interwoven  with  his  trade 
and  amusement.  He  is  shaved  religiouslv, 
and  takes  his  bath  religiously.  To 
Christianize  China  you  must  first  recon- 
struct the  whole  fabric  of  Chinese  govern- 
ment, custom  and  life — the  Chinese— Japa- 
nese war  means  more  than  the  settlement 


2i8  Through  Wonderland 

of  differences  between  two  nations — it 
means  the  Christian  civilization  of  those 
nations. 

The  recent  massacre  of  missionaries  in 
China  is  evidence  of  the  obstacles  in  the 
way  toward  Christian  civilization,  under 
the  existing-  society  enslavement  of  that 
people.  All  these  bloody  troubles  were 
started  by  the  scholars  and  nobility,  and 
not  by  the  common  people.  Tracts  and 
publications  have  called  them  out ;  the 
massacre  of  Tient-Tsin  was  provoked  by 
the  book,  ' '  Deathblow  to  Corrupt  Doc- 
trines/1 Magazines  of  Shanghai  con- 
tained illustrated  articles  showing  how 
foreigners  cut  up  Chines  bodies  and  boil 
them  down  into  patent  medicine.  Mission- 
aries are  called  "  pig-goat  devils,0  and 
the  literati  of  China  have  styled  the 
Christian  religion  '  '  the  faith  of  the  crucified 
hog."  Missionaries  are  charged  with 
stealing  babies,  scooping  out  their  eyes 
and  hearts  and  selling  them  for  $50  a  set. 
The  eyes  are  used,  they  say,  to  charm 
silver  out  of  lead,  and  only  Chinese  eyes 
can  do  this.  Circulars,  by  the  thousands, 
were  distributed  inciting  to  kill  the  Chris- 
tians, and  they  were  illustrated  to  show 
how  it  should  be  done — they  are  being 


to  Alaska.  219 


burned — tied  to  crosses  and  being  whipped 
— they  lie  on  the  ground  and  Chinamen 
pour  slops  into  their  mouths  through  fun- 
nels. Their  teachings  about  our  religion 
is  something  most  ludicrous,  and  is  meant 
to  incite  to  great  passion — therefore  the 
recent  massacre  at  Ku  Cheng.  History 
repeats  itself,  and  this  mighty  empire 
must  be  upturned,  hierarchy  and  all — and 
that  is  the  remote  cause  of  this  war — it  is 
opening  China  to  Christian  civilization. 

My  visit  to  Chinatown  in  San  Francisco 
has  indelibly  fixed  itself  upon  my   mind 
and  heart.     I   have  already  described  it 
elsewhere.     It  matters  not  where  you  find 
the    Chinaman    on    the    earth;    in    their 
heathen  state,   they   have  a   mighty   wall 
around    them — they    are     a     mysterious 
colony,  and  altogether  to  themselves  and 
for  themselves.     That  night  spent  in  their 
temple,    amusement  hall,  gambling  hells, 
and    places    of    weird    oriental    life,     was 
something  like  Dante's  visit  to  the  nethei 
world.     In  underground  ways,  the  starrec 
guide  led  me  by  the  light  of  a  tallow  dip 
and  when  those  opium -dens   of  vice   wen 
opened,  there  gleamed  through  the  smoke 
made  heavy  by   the   dim    glare    of   littl< 
lamps,  a  pair  of  eyes  from  six  bunks,  tha 


22O  Through  Wonderland 

looked  like  the  spectre-eyes  of  hell  itself. 
How  their  sallow  cheeks  sunk  in  as  they 
took  their  long  draughts  from  the  opium- 
pipe  !  Each  whiff  sent  out  a  fresh  layer 
of  strangely-scented  smoke  to  be  added 
to  the  already  dense  cloud.  There  they 
lay  'till  morning — thick  smoke  their  cover 
— enjoying  their  opium  feast '  till  paralyzed 
into  sleep.  Alas  !  these  are  the  depths  of 
vice  to  which  a  soul  can  sink.  A  beast 
hardly  falls  as  far  as  a  human  being.  Now, 
whatever  the  condition  of  China  and  the 
Chinamen,  it  lies  within  the  possibility  of 
a  Christian  civilization  to  lift  both  up  to 
ennobling  greatness.  That  this  heathen 
is  among  us  may  be  a  Providence  too — it 
is  not  what  he  brings  to  us,  but  what  we 
give  to  him,  that  may  help  to  work  out 
the  divine  plan  for  the  oldest,  largest  and 
most  benighted  race  of  the  orient. 


OUR  COUNTRY  EAST  AND  WEST 
OF  THE  MISSISSIPPI. 

XXVII. 

READING,  OCT.  7,  1895. 

The  fathers  of  Massachusetts  Bay  once 
decided  that  the  country  west  of  Boston 
would  never  be  very  much  populated. 
How  little  man  understands  man's  own  re- 
sources !  How  little  he  knows  of  God's 
plan  in  the  earth  !  America  is  meant  to 
decide  many  things  for  Christ's  Kingdom 
in  the  centuries  to  come. 

Yes,  there  never  was  such  a  history  of 
marvellous  settlement  of  a  country.  In 
ten  years  the  West  made  strides  equal  to 
fifty  years  east  of  the  Mississippi.  But 
electricity  and  steam  entered  as  elements 
into  this  achievement.  It  is  strange  to 
record  that  our  home-missionaries  were 
the  first  to  awaken  interest  in  the  possi- 
bilities of  the  region  beyond  the  great 
rivers.  Now  look  at  it  all.  Not  includ- 
ing Alaska,  we  have  2,970,000  square 
miles  of  land.  Of  this  1,500,000  is  arable 
land.  The  United  States  is  worth  to-day 


222  Through  Wonderland 

$70,000,000,000,  the  land  is  worth  $22,- 
000,000,000,  the  railroads,  $10,000,000,- 
ooo.  To  give  a  comparative  idea  of  the 
greatness  of  this  country,  we  need  only  to 
state  that  we  might  put  all  the  inhabitants 
of  the  United  States  into  Texas  alone,  and 
yet  not  have  as  dense  a  settlement  as  Ger- 
many has. 

Of  our  country  we  may  say — "  the  land 
is  as  the  garden  of  Eden  before  them." 
We  have  got  the  land  surely.  It  has 
been  at  making  for  many  billions  of  years. 
The  soil  has  been  upturned  by  volcanic 
action,  and  refined  by  the  great  lakes  and 
rivers,  and  washed  down  from  the  high 
mountains.  The  high  water  lines  on  the 
Salt  Lake  mountains,  the  glacier  effects  oi 
the  canyons  and  ' '  bad-lands, ' '  and  the 
mineral  mixtures  of  many  valleys  indicate 
to  us  how  this  land  was  made.  At  one 
time  we  heard  of  "the  great  American 
desert. "  We  might  as  well  expunge  it 
from  the  map,  for  Utah  has  no  greater 
waste  land  than  Arizona  or  Nevada,  or 
any  other  portion. 

Think  of  the  active  resources  of  this 
new  country  !  About  17,000,000  horse 
power  of  engine,  locomotive  and  steam- 
boat is  used  to-day.  The  workingman  by 


to  Alaska.  223 


these  has  more  conveniences  than  the  king 
and  queen  of  a  hundred  years  ago.  In 
1893  we  used  $3,089,000  worth  of  manu- 
factured and  grown  things.  We  sent 
$640,000,000  worth  to  other  countries* 
We  spend  $1,000,000  a  day  for  building. 
Now  if  you  just  begin  to  calculate  what 
these  figures  imply.  You  can't  begin  to 
enumerate  in  how  many  ways  these  figures 
set  the  wheels  at  work.  The  plows,  and 
flails,  and  cars,  and  ships,  and  mines  to 
furnish  fuel,  the  lumber  marts,  and  saw 
mills — were  all  busy  in  a  thousand  ways 
that  money  was  made.  We  gain  wealth 
at  the  rate  of  $7,000,000  a  day. 

One  of  the  characteristics  of  the  West 
is  its  largeness.  There  is  a  mighty  horizon 
overhanging  that  country,  and  everything 
patterns  after  it  —  mountains,  rivers, 
ranches,  railroads,  crops,  herds,  business 
undertakings— large  ideas  and  large  im~ 
aginations.  Three  things  have  to  be 
solved  for  the  West— how  to  keep  large 
land-grants  out  of  the  hand  of  speculators 
— how  to  reclaim  the  arid  regions  by  irri- 
gation, and  how  to  find  a  larger  market 
for  the  increased  products.  The  fertility 
of  soil  is  there,  the  grand  scenery  also, 


224  Through   Wonderland 

and  the  climate — it  has  the  outlook  for  the 
most  healthful  communities  in  the  world. 

The  young  man  who  looks  toward  the 
West  to  find  his  fortune  must,  however, 
first  sit  down  to  count  the  cost.  The  wild 
speculative  bubble  is  broken  out  there — 
and  the  West  is  getting  to  be  conservative 
— a  dollar  is  beginning  to  be  worth  only  a 
dollar,  the  same  as  in  the  East.  To  go 
into  a  city,  the  same  rules  of  success  in 
business  hold  there  as  here — you  must 
have  prosperous  times  and  you  must  know 
how  to  do  business.  If  the  tilling  of  the 
soil  invites  you,  a  little  capital  is  needed, 
for  rented  farms  are  less  desirable  West 
than  East.  To  get  along  one  can't  de- 
pend on  a  fancied  genius  or  luck — but 
work  is  required,  and  the  hardest  kind  of 
work.  Intellect  and  business  capacity 
and  wide-awake  enterprise  are  on  the 
ground  long  ago,  and  one  must  watch 
these  to  run  the  race  in  their  line. 

If  you  are  a  man  of  sentiment  you 
must  be  willing  to  leave  your  memories 
behind.  The  old  homestead  is  not  out 
there,  the  patriarchal  churchyard  does  not 
rest  on  the  hillside,  the  generations  of 
friends  and  relatives  do  not  make  the 


To  Alaska.  225 


community  for  your  weddings  and  funerals 
— everything  is  new  except  God's  land. 

The  religious  character  of  the  West  is 
a  great  study.  There  are  those  from  the 
East  who  have  taken  their  faith  with  them, 
and  a  large  influx  of  emigrants  intermingle, 
who  also  once  were  religiously  impressed. 
But  now  there  are  new  environments  for 
God's  church  and  people.  How  we  are 
moulded  and  remodeled  by  our  environ- 
ments !  As  you  roll  along  over  the  conti- 
nent you  now  strike  the  great  wheat  belt, 
and  the  absorbing  topic  for  all  that  region 
is,  "  wheat."  You  ride  through  the 
lumber  region,  and  cattle  region,  and 
fruit  region,  and  mineral  region,  and  get 
to  the  great  fisheries  and  railroad  termi- 
nals, and  there  is  nothing  that  has  such  a 
thorough  hold  upon  the  thought  of  the 
people  as  the  respective  industry  of  those 
parts  of  the  country.  Everything  is  on  a 
grand  scale  through  the  ranch  and  gold 
regions — only  the  church  is  a  small  thing. 
We  do  not  find  the  church  to  boom  up 
into  anything  conspicuously  until  we  reach 
the  city. 

The  western  city  is  a  marvelous  thing 
on  the  earth.  It  attained  its  growth  as 
over  night.  It  is  filled  with  the  progres- 


226  Through  Wonderland 

sive  spirit  of  the  age.  It  has  large  uni- 
versities of  learning,  and  its  asylums  and 
institutions  of  charity,  together  with  its 
art  and  library  buildings,  are  of  the  most 
pretentious  kind.  Here  and  there  cities 
have  churches  of  the  most  elaborate  style. 

But  when  we  come  to  analyze  the  re- 
ligious spirit  of  the  west  we  must  do  it 
with  charity.  Liberalism  has  intermingled 
with  the  religious  thought  of  the  west- — 
and  it  is  hard  to  build  up  a  new  church 
and  make  it  burn  with  enthusiasm.  The 
theatre  in  many  cities  is  open  as  well  as 
the  church  on  the  Lord's  day.  There  is 
no  rowdy  roughness  on  the  streets  because 
of  this — it  is  a  refined  liberalism,  which  is 
all  the  harder  to  overcome. 

Among  the  masses  there  is  an  uneasy 
feeling,  and  nowhere  do  you  find  as 
numerous  street-preaching  as  in  the  West 
The  Salvation  army  abounds,  the  Adelphia 
Mission  parades  with  instrument  and  song, 
with  colors  and  bannered  mottoes  ;  the 
Adventist  woman  sends  out  her  plaintive 
warning  night  after  night  ;  the  cowboy 
preacher  has  his  tent,  and  the  Indian 
woman  preacher  her  tent — and  so  the 
yearning  soul  is  groping  amid  the  unsettled 
currents  of  religious  experience — and 


to  Alaska.  227 


seeks  to  find  something  for  the  void. 
There  are  master  preachers  in  pulpits  of 
the  far  West,  but  the  response  given  to 
their  work  is  yet  too  cold  for  any  one 
minister  to  stay  there  a  very  long  time. 

The  prophesy  perhaps  is  a  correct  one 
— that  the  West  will  dominate  the  East. 
It  has  twice  the  room,  and  great  resources, 
and  when  the  centre  of  population  once 
crosses  the  Mississippi,  the  political  con- 
trol of  this  country  will  go  with  it.  The 
church  mission-work  for  us  lies  largely  in 
the  West.  If  it  will  be  so  great  a  part  of 
this  land,  it  ought  to  be  something  great 
for  the  Lord. 

But  with  all  this  praise  for  the  far 
West,  the  Eden-spot  of  our  land  is  not 
found  until  you  enter  again  the  State  of 
Pennsylvania.  The  landscape  out  there 
is  something  grand  for  a  picture — high 
mountains,  great  rivers  and  sunsets  over 
wide  plains.  But  the  lovely  pastoral 
scenes  belong  to  the  East — there  is  a  home- 
feeling  in  them  that  is  indescribable.  Here 
are  the  hills,  and  the  meadows,  the  little 
streams  and  the  scattered  woodlands — 
and  the  all-prevailing  farm-house,  town 
and  city.  There  is  nothing  in  the  West 
to  equal  the  garden  spots  of  Lancaster 


228  Through   Wonderland 


county,  Lebanon  Valley,  Berks  with  its 
Oley  and  little  Conestoga.  How  blessed 
in  scenery  we  are  !  Contentment  ought 
to  be  written  over  our  dwelling-place. 
More  than  all,  with  the  beauty  and  plenty, 
that  dwell  with  us,  we  too  have  the  favor 
of  God  among  us.  Everywhere  the 
church-spire  points  heavenward,  we  are  in 
a  settled  land,  and  have  fixed  opinions  of 
God. 


YELLOWSTONE   PARK  — IN    RET- 
ROSPECT. 

XXVIII. 

READING,  OCT.  — ,  1895. 

We  live  over  our  travels,  again  and 
again.  Sweet  is  the  contemplation  of 
something  that  gilds  the  past — sweet  retro- 
spect !  We  rock  in  the  cushioned  palace 
on  wheels,  and  like  a  golden-lined  dream, 
is  our  journey  to  the  West.  We  go  in 
thought,  and  out-do  the  speed  of  steam. 
Already  we  have  come  to  St.  Paul,  1,300 
miles  away,  and  yet  a  1,000  miles  more, 
and  we  have  come  to  the  Yellowstone 

It  is  but  a  little  spot  of  earth,  lying  in 
the  north-west  corner  of  Wyoming,  over- 
lapping into  Idaho  on  the  west,  and  Mon- 
tana on  the  north — sixty-five  miles  wide, 
and  seventy-five  miles  long.  It  nestles  in 
the  heart  of  the  Rockies,  with  valleys 
6,000  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  and 
mountain-peaks,  10,000  and  14,000  feet 
high. 

It  is  known  as  one  of  the  greatest 
water-sheds  on  earth.  From  the  north 


230  Through  Wonderland 

and  north-west,  the  Madison  and  Gallatin 
and  Jefferson  fork  into  the  Missouri,  which 
enters  into  the  Mississippi,  which  empties 
into  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  From  the  east, 
the  Yellowstone  flows  in  a  devious  course 
of  1,300  miles,  and  casts  its  volume  into 
the  Missouri.  From  the  west,  the  Snake, 
in  a  coil-like  trail,  steals  its  way  to  find 
the  mighty  Columbia,  and  buries  its  life 
in  the  Pacific.  From  the  south,  the 
Green,  rushes  in  crazy  ways,  precipitates 
through  Colorado  canyons,  and  plunges 
into  the  suicidal  grave  of  the  Gulf  of  Cali- 
fornia. 

.  This  weird  and  enchanted  spot  is  only 
of  recent  discovery.  The  rumors  of  west- 
ern hunters  first  awakened  curiosity  by 
stories  of  wildest  fancy.  But  in  1870, 
Gen.  Washborn  was  escorted  to  the  inner 
wilds  by  Lieut.  Doane  of  the  United 
States  army,  and  in  1871-72,  Prof.  F.  V. 
Hayden,  United  States  geologist,  made  a 
thorough  discovery  of  it,  under  the  sanc- 
tion of  Congress — and  largely  by  his 
efforts,  it  became  a  national  reservation. 

A    ZOOLOGICAL    GARDEN. 

Some  day  this  place  will  be  one  of  the 
few  natural  zoological  gardens  of  our 
country.  How  the  noble  animals  in  their 


To  Alaska.  231 


wild  state  have  become  exterminated  ! 
But  they  too  know,  as  well  as  man,  a  good 
thing-  when  they  find  it,  and  by  instinct 
they  tarry  within  these  protected  confines 
— and  beast  and  bird  increase  in  numbers. 
Here  you  find  almost  on  intimate  terms, 
the  bear  and  deer,  and  elk  and  antelope — 
the  mountain -lion,  sheep  and  goat — the 
buffalo,  and  all  the  smaller  animals.  No 
less  than  200  bufFalos,  with  their  calves, 
linger  in  the  valleys,  a  species  of  Ameri- 
can animals  just  scarcely  saved  from  ob- 
livion. The  buffalo,  and  the  Indian  once 
owned  the  prairie-world  of  the  West — 
Alas  !  now  you  seek  to  find  them. 

It  is  styled  a  Park — but  I  would  disa- 
buse your  mind  of  a  misconception  you 
have  in  drawing  your  picture  of  the  place. 
It  has  no  garden-walks  or  plots  of  flowers, 
or  statuary,  or  fountains,  such  as  the  name 
of  park  indicates  to  us.  It  however  is  a 
reservation  of  Wonderland,  just  as  nature 
made  it,  and  is  inspired  by  a  genius  that 
eclipses  all  design  of  a  practiced  art. 
The  place  is  preeminently  a  delight  for 
the  artist  and  student.  They  grow  humble 
here — they  find  their  limitations  here.  It 
is  grand  and  magnificent,  in  its  snow- 
capped mountains  and  dark  canyons  ;  it  is 


232  Through    Wonderland 

picturesque  in  its  splendid  water-falls  and 
strangely-formed  rocks  ;  it  is  beautiful  in 
its  sylvan-shores  of  noble  lakes  and  mir- 
rored sky-effects  ;  it  is  phenomenal  in  its 
geysers  and  hot-springs  and  mountains  of 
sulphur. 

It  is  a  great  volcanic  region.  No 
wonder  the  Indians  feared  it  as  the  home 
of  the  lower  spirit-world.  All  that  region, 
drained  by  the  Yellowstone  and  the  Co- 
lumbia rivers,  was  once  the  scene  of 
terrific  volcanic  action.  On  mountain 
tops,  1 1,000  feet  high,  hundreds  of  these 
nucleii — these  volcano  vents  can  be  seen 
to-day.  Their  shape  and  escaping  steam 
tell  us  of  the  very  remote  Pliocene  period 
when  these  fires  flamed  and  disgorged 
their  anger.  You  put  on  an  ancient  look, 
and  talk  of  the  tertiary  period  by  traces 
here  and  there.  Now,  you  stand  in  the 
closing  stages  of  the  mighty  upheavals 
that  had  their  beginnings  in  that  remote 
time — these  geysers  and  hot  springs  are 
only  the  escape  valves  of  the  waning  ter- 
rors beneath.  But  a  little  time,  as  God 
reckons  time,  and  they  will  all  have  died 
away. 


to  Alaska.  233 


TO    MAMMOTH    HOT    SPRINGS. 

At  Livingston  you  awake  in  your  Pull- 
man car,  and  behold  for  the  first  time  the 
snow-capped  heights  of  the  Rocky  moun- 
tains. To  Cinnabar  is  a  ride  of  fifty-one 
miles,  and  there  you  enter  the  outer  gate 
of  the  Park.  It  is  a  picturesque  car-ride 
• — Paradise  Valley  lies  along  your  way. 
Incidentally  you  notice  the  Devil's  Slide, 
which  precipitates  2,000  feet  adown  a 
mountain-flank,  like  a  slippery  toboggan, 
between  two  walls  of  trap-rock  150  feet 
apart.  It  demonstrates  how  easy  his 
Satanic  Majesty  makes  it  in  life  for  any 
<one  to  go  down  hill.  At  Cinnabar  a  line 
of  six-horse  tally-ho  coaches  await  you  to 
•carry  you  over  seven  miles,  2,000  feet  up 
to  the  Mammoth  Hot  Springs  Hotel. 

After  lunch  you  stand  upon  the  veranda 
of  a  hotel,  which  in  a  perspective  view 
looks  as  pretentious  as  a  Saratoga  or 
Niagara  Falls  hostelrie.  Your  eye  takes 
3n  the  situation  of  things  at  will,  and  Mt. 
Everts,  with  his  companions,  crowds  down 
to  the  Gardiner  river  from  afar.  Against 
this  back-ground  is  set  Fort- Yellowstone, 
and  the  United  States  soldier  blows  his 
signal  trumpet  to  stir  up  the  slumbering 
echoes  of  the  ravines.  He  follows  the 


234  Through  Wonderland 

guide  at  every  point  of  interest  in  the 
park  to  protect  the  curiosities  against  the 
relic  vandal.  As  he  is  a  favorite  of  the 
ladies,  and  susceptible  to  softening  charms, 
he  may  say  to  the  favorite  one — "if  you 
accidentally  on  purpose  pick  up  some 
token  as  I  look  the  other  way,  I  of  course 
know  nothing  to  report/'  But  what  is 
this  strange  picture  to  the  right  ?  Surely 
I  have  never  seen  anything  in  the  world 
that  looks  like  that.  You  go  forth  to  in- 
spect. You  soon  find  thirteen  ingeniously 
constructed  terraces,  and  fifty  hot  springs- 
scattered  over  170  acres  of  two  miles 
square.  It  would  seem  as  if  an  angel  had 
come  down  from  Heaven  to  trouble  these 
waters  like  the  pool  of  Bethesda.  New 
Zealand  has  been  robbed  by  volcanic  erup- 
tion of  its  famous  pink  terraces  of  Roto- 
wahana,  and  so  we  find  these  without  a 
rival  in  the  world.  Up  we  climb  to  grot- 
teld  cliffs  and  Devil's  Kitchen,  and 
Cupid's  Cave  and  Elephants  Back,  and 
linger  over  the  clear  depths  of  pools  that 
vibrate  with  overhanging  clouds,  fringed 
with  ultramarine  colors,  and  shading  off  to* 
the  rim  of  the  overflowing  basin  with  tints- 
of  red  and  scarlet  and  rose  and  yellowr 
cushioned  without  by  vegetation  like  cash- 


to  Alaska.  235 


mere  wool — a  picture  worth  the  visit  of  a 
life  !  When  you  look  at  the  extinct 
Liberty  Cap,  and  stand  on  Pulpit  and 
Cleopatra  and  Minerva  Terraces,  you 
breathe  the  air  of  7,000  feet  elevation, 
and  you  look  at  scenes  through  magnified 
lenses  of  human  vision. 

After  a  good  night's  rest,  you  take  your 
seat  in  the  stage,  which  may  be  one  of  a 
caravan  of  seven.  Your  ride  of  160 
miles  will  be  interrupted  at  six  different 
stops,  and  you  are  on  the  ascending  scale, 
like  in  a  college-course,  until  you  graduate 
amid  the  exciting  wonders  of  the  Grand 
Canyon.  Very  soon  you  will  have  climbed 
r,ooo  feet  higher  to  come  to  the  one-mile 
road  which  cost  $14,000  to  construct — it 
leads  through  the  Golden  Gate,  whose 
precipitous  rocks  are  covered  with  yellow 
moss,  not  unlike  the  lining  of  gold.  This 
road  further  on  forces  its  way  through  the 
Obsidian  Cliff,  and  had  to  be  constructed 
by  fire-melting  the  glass-rocks — the  only 
glass-road  in  the  world.  The  driver  draws 
in  reins  at  the  Norris  Geyser  Basin,  and 
we  dust  off  in  the  lunch-tent  of  Larrey — 
the  inimitable  Irishman.  He  is  a  host 
never  to  be  forgotten — his  wit  is  as  much 
relished  as  the  refreshments  on  his  table. 


236  Through  'Wonderland 

He  adds  interest  to  all  that  lies  without 
his  hostelrie,  as  with  the  guide's  stick,  he 
points  to  Congress  Spring,  the  Mud  Gey- 
ser and  Black  Growler.  His  intimacy 
with  these  natural  curiosities  provokes- 
pet-names,  and  the  round  with  him  is 
jolly,  and  just  as  instructive.  Larrey 
waves  the  stage  good-bye  from  his  tent- 
door  with  the  perverted  French  term— 
"  Au  reservoir  !'y 

IN  THE  GREAT  GEYSER  REGION. 

You  halt  for  the  night  at  the  Lower 
Geyser  Basin.  You  passed  through  the 
picturesque  Gibbon -River  Valley,  and  you 
are  pleased  to  have  come  at  evening  to 
the  fireside  of  another  stopping  point. 
Here  you  have  great  expectation  for  the 
morrow — you  have  come  into  the  great 
geyser  district.  Up  and  down  this  region 
there  are  over  1,093  h°t  springs  and  45 
geysers.  The  noises  are  like  the  distant 
restlessness  of  a  menagerie  of  wild  beasts 
— like  the  trumpeting  of  scattered  ele- 
phants. It  is  intimated  that  Dante  could 
add  another  chapter  to  his  Inferno  by  the 
impressions  received  here.  Before  night 
you  sally  forth  to  see  the  Fountain  Geyser 
play.  From  the  hotel  you  can  see  the 
white  deposit,  which  is  like  a  white  sheet 


to  Alaska.  237 


stretched  over  several  acres.  Here  and 
there  the  mounds  of  beaded  geyserite  is 
built  up  three  and  four  feet.  The  erup- 
tion of  the  fountain  occurs  at  intervals  of 
two  and  four  hours.  The  signal  lies  in 
the  30  feet  basin — a  stone-projection,  to 
which  the  water  must  first  rise.  Then  all 
of  a  sudden  the  hot  water  belches  forth 
and  shoots  aloft  in  a  spreading  attitude  of 
20  to  60  feet.  You  linger  here,  and  to 
await  the  4<  shooting  off,"  you  step  over 
to  look  at  the  Mammoth  Paint-Pots. 
You  hardly  expected  such  a  phenomenon 
— you  are  strangely  surprised  as  your 
eyes  fall  on  the  seething,  boiling,  bubbling 
caldron — 60  feet  wide.  Mud  !  plop  ! 
plop  ! — like  a  pot  of  boiling  mush,  ex- 
ploding with  hemispherical  blisters,  from 
one  side  to  the  other,  are  the  sounds  that 
fill  the  air.  Night  and  day  it  is — plop- 
plop — and  for  how  long  !  It  seems  as  if 
the  imps  had  come  with  sticks,  and  were 
stirring  to  get  this  pink  and  red  mortar 
into  a  proper  consistency — forty  cones 
outside  are  active  all  the  while  amid  the 
seamed  clay.  Your  weird  spell  is  suddenly 
broken  by  the  shout — "  the  fountain  goes 
oft!"  You  hasten  to  the  scene,  and 


238  Through  Wonderland 

stand  in  wonder  before  this  self- regulated 
explosion  of  mysterious  power. 

On  your  way  to  the  Upper  Geyser 
Basin  next  day,  you  pass  Hell's  Half 
Acre,  and  the  famous  Excelsior  Geyser, 
which  has  a  crater  400  feet  long,  and 
raises  the  entire  volume  of  water  as  a 
signal  of  its  eruption.  But  after  a  three 
hours  drive  you  have  come  to  the^  place 
of  highest  interest — an  area  of  four  miles 
square,  with  26  geysers  and  400  hot 
springs.  From  the  rustic  veranda  of  the 
lunch-cabin,  you  can  see  over  a  wide 
stretch,  in  which,  like  in  a  sea,  you  are 
constantly  surprised  by  shooting  fountains 
— geysers  going  off  like  whales  spouting; 
There  are  the  Bee  Hive,  the  Giantess,  the 
Lion,  the  Lioness  and  Cubs,  the  Fan  and 
the  Mortar,  Sponge — and  a  host  of  others. 
Preeminent  among  all  is  ' '  Old  Faithful. ' ' 
To  the  minute  almost,  every  sixty-three 
minutes,  day  and  night,  summer  and 
winter,  this  wonder  freak  gives  a  splendid 
exhibition.  To  the  height  of  150  feet  it 
shoots — a  beautiful  sight  is  this  hissing 
stream  of  hot  water,  waved  hither  and 
thither  by  the  wind — a  beautiful  sight  hi 
the  mellow  glow  of  moon-light.  How 
eccentric  these  geysers  I  as  if  they  had  in- 


to  Alaska.  239 


telligent  moods.  Some  play  every  six 
days — -some  four  times  daily— -and  each 
has  its  own  peculiarity.  You  inspect  the 
cones  of  the  geysers  in  their  interval  of 
rest — Lone  Star,  Giant,  Grotto  and  others. 
You  stand  by  the  pools  and  you  never 
\vill  forget  the  Morning- Glory.  Th<e  sweet- 
ness of  contentment,  the  peace  of  heart, 
the  purity  of  Heaven  are  reflected  within 
the  bosom  of  its  delicately  colored  walls. 

GRAND  CANYON  AND  FALLS. 

The  next  day  lands  you  at  the  '  'Thumb" 
for  lunch,  and  in  the  evening  you  arrive 
at  the  Yellowstone-Lake  Hotel.  The  ride 
takes  you  through  the  wonderful  wood- 
land districts — what  waste  timber  !  what 
sombre  shadows  3  But  now  the  poetic 
is  deeply  stirred  within  you — that  lake  is 
a  poet's  dream,  to  whose  waters  the 
mountains  and  clouds  come  to  inspect 
and  admire  themselves.  And  the  fisher- 
man !  Even  though  the  lake  be  22  miles 
long,  and  12  to  15  miles  wide,  he  can  lure 
a  hundred  trout  anywhere  to  his  fly,  in 
the  shady  outing  of  a  day.  Millions  of 
fish  1— so  many  that  you  don't  care.  It 
is  the  only  thing,  except  mosquitos,  that 
you  dare  kill  in  the  park. 


240  Through  Wonderland 

But  we  are  now  reaching  the  climax  of 
scenery — we  are  halting  before  the  Grand 
Canyon  Hotel.  Now  rested,  we  will  go 
forth  on  foot,  and  we  little  dream  what  is 
before  us  as  we  go  down  the  slope.  Soon 
we  draw  aside  the  curtain  of  trees,  and 
labor  on  with  expectation.  We  have  our 
ideas,  but  we  will  soon  discover  that  the 
half  has  not  been  told  us.  Now  we  burst 
forth,  and  stand  out  upon  Inspiration 
Point  !  We  look — up  and  down — we  stand 
in  mute  silence.  At  last  we  give  vent  to» 
our  feelings,  we  only  gasp  at  exclamations 
— beauty — grandeur —  sublimity  —  dread- 
fulness — delight — wonder  —  awe  —  terror. 
We  stop  and  gaze.  That  river  comes 
down  from  the  unknown,  but  beneath  it 
winds  with  a  contracted  moan,  and  looks- 
like  a  silver-ribbon.  The  gorge  is  fearful 
confusion  and  restful  harmony  at  the 
same  time.  Its  Gothic  columns  are  like 
temple  ruins,,  and  they  stand  away  from 
those  rocks  that  pile  up  1200  feet  high. 
And  the  colors  !  Thomas  Moran  has  done 
his  best — but  nature  did  more.  It  is 
daily  painting,  for  morning,  noon  and 
evening  have  each  their  own  paint-pots f 
and  the  canyon  is  never  the  same,  it  is 
kaleidoscopic  in  colors.  With  what  diff- 


To  Alaska*  241 


erent  thoughts  and  feelings  too  the  visitor 
views  this  spectacle  of  scenery.  The 
artist  will  think  of  form  and  tints  ;  the 
scientist  will  think  of  geological  forma- 
tions ;  the  lecturer  will  think  of  rhetorical 
climaxes  ;  the  pleasure-tourist  will  think 
it  is  superbly  grand—and  so  each  has 
seen  the  marvel  gorge  and  is  satisfied. 
That  river  is  interesting  in  every  turn  of 
the  24  miles  through  the  canyon,  but  you 
admire  it  most,  when  you  see  it  gather  its 
courage  together  in  the  two  great  leaps — • 
the  Upper  Falls,  140  feet  down,  the 
Lower  Falls,  360  feet  down.  From  below 
we«view  it— ' 'not  Niagara,"  we  say — but 
it  is  indescribably  beautiful,  If  it  were 
not  for  those  majestic  rocks  which  God 
sculp tored  all  around,  these  falls  would 
inspire  with  grandeur.  Buried  in  these 
depths,  with  gorgeous  pinnacles  reaching 
to  the  sky;  and  that  mass  of  silver-foam 
falling  down  before  your  feet — -all  alone 
amid  such  loneliness,  is  appalling,  over- 
powering. The  castles  of  the  Rhine,  the 
cathedrals  of  the  world,  all  the  art-galler- 
ies combined  are  before  me — >and  God's 
awful  majesty*  solemn  as  death.  It  seems 
as  if  those  painted  battlements  up  there 
were  the  waving  banners  of  the  hosts  of 


Through  Wonderland 


the  earth,  and  as  if  this  downfall  of  water 
Were  the  stream  of  blood  from  all  the 
battlefields.  But  it  is  not.  You  gain 
confidence  by  looking  at  it  alone.  It  has 
Victory  written  on  its  wavy  folds,  and  that 
it  goes  on,  and  molests  not  the  mosses  and 
ledges  and  grasses  at  its  feet,  is  evidence 
that  it  is  on  a  mission  of  peace.  Rise, 
let  us  go  hence—  and  ask  us  not,  never 
to  forget. 


YOSEMITE    VALLEY,— IN   RETRO- 
SPECT. 

XXIX. 

READING,  Nov.  — ,  1895. 

In  travel,  you  make  all  things  you  see 
your  treasure  for  a  whole  life.  You  store 
up  memories  and  visions  and  sensations 
that  can  never  be  taken  from  you,  and  at 
will,  long  after,  you  walk  among  them  with 
almost  the  same  reality,  as  you  go  up  and 
down  your  house  to  inspect  delightful 
possessions  there.  With  the  flash  of  a 
thought  I  traverse  3,500  miles  over  a  zig- 
zag route,  and  I  stand  again  in  the  awe- 
inspiring  valley  of  the  Yosemite.  Surely, 
it  is  among  the  greatest  scenic  wonders  of 
America — I  shall  never  forget  it. 

You  start  from  the  Palace  Hotel  of  San 
Francisco,  and  journey  250  miles  to  the 
southeast.  It  woutd  be  150  miles  "  as  the 
crow  flies,  "  to  this  unique  spot  of  the 
Sierra  Nevada,  in  California.  The  place 
so  designated,  circumscribes  an  area  seven 
miles  long  and  one-half  to  one  mile  wide. 


244  Through   Wonderland 


The  name  Yosemite  is  pronounced  Yo= 
sem-i-te,  an  Indian  word,  which  means . 
targe  Grizzly  Bear.  The  old  name  of  the 
Valley  was  Ah-wah-hee,  but  a  chief  of  the 
tribe  inhabiting  the  spot,  distinguished 
himself  by  slaying  an  enormous  grizzly 
bear,,  and  he  was  intantly  styled,  Yosemite, 
in  honor  of  the  valorous  combat  —and 
gradually  the  tribe  was  known  by  this 
name,  and  the  valley  too. 

The  Indians  infesting  this  hidden  strong- 
hold of  nature  were  a  thieving  set,  and 
armed  soldiers  had  to  follow  them  up  to 
their  unknown  retreat.  It  was  in  such  an 
expedition  of  1 85 1  that  the  grandeur  of  this 
spot  was  first  discovered  to  the  white  man. 
In  1855,  the  first  tourists  visited  the  valley, 
under  the  guidance  of  J.  M.  Hutchings, 
who  gathered  illustrations  for  the  maga- 
zine he  published  in  California.  He  has 
since  become  the  standard  authority  for 
Yosemite.  In  1864,  Congress  set  the 
place  aside  as  a  national  reservation,  and 
gave  it  to  the  State  of  California  in  trust. 

STAGING  IT  INTO  YOSEMITE. 

The  cars  take  you  no  further  than^Ray* 
mond,  where  you  will  have  to  mount  to 
the  four-in-hand  stage,  for  the  75  miles  of 
inward  journey.  You  will  want  to  be 


To  Alaska.  245 

properly  equipped — -old  clothes,  and  warm, 
an  overcoat,  a  dusters-arid  a  goodly  stock 
of  patience.  You  see,  the  way  leads  up 
into  the  mountains  almost  imperceptibly — • 
but  very  soon  you  will  roll  along  an  eleva- 
tion of  6,500  feet  high*  Do  not  count  oil 
fain,  very  seldom  the  cloud-sprinklers  drive1 
across  your  path  at  this  season.  But  be 
prepared  for  dust,  and  hardships — they 
belong  to  the  achievements  of  a  Vosemite 
Visit.  A  youilg  officer  of  the  United  States 
army  was  my  companion,  I  shall  not  for- 
get his  discomfiture,  he  had  such  a  fastidi^ 
ous  sentiment  hovering  over  his  person^ 
ality.  He  had  made  the  acquaintance  of 
an  aristocratic  maiden  at  the  fashionable 
Del  Monte,  during  the  month  of  the 
soldier's  encampment  there,  and  a  love 
dream  possessed  his  thoughts,  and  it  was 
a  fitting  time  to  visit  the  beauties  of  nature,, 
and  to  listen  to  the  music  of  waterfalls — ~* 
there  was  much  poetry  in  his  heaft.  He 
started  from  San  Francisco,  where  he  laid 
aside  his  regimentals  of  blue  cloth  and  gold 
buttons,  and  put  on  a  new  outfit  fresh  fronl 
the  store.  He  bade  his  girl  good-bye,  and 
in  this  dainty  fashion  he  took  his  seat  by 
my  side  on  the  stage  to  visit  the  Yosemite, 
A  slouch  hat  and  a  cheap  duster  were  my 


246  Through  Wonderland 

protection — J  felt  myself  clean  outdone  in 
appearance  by  my  soldier-friend,  he  cer- 
tainly did  look  very  handsome  in  his 
creased  trousers,  close-fitting  coat,  fresh 
derby,  and  brand  new  shoes.  But  the 
coach  rolled  on,  and  the  dust  began  to  roll 
up — the  wind  was  too  tantalizing,  it  chased 
clouds  of  dust  after  us.  I  looked  askance 
to  my  friend,  again  and  again,  and  I  soon 
saw  the  glory  of  his  appearance  receding. 
He  brushed  with  his  hand,  took  off  his  hat 
to  inspect,  blew  a  breath  of  indignation 
upon  it,  and  wriggled  uneasily  in  the  con- 
scious transformation  of  his  pride.  He 
several  times  wondered  what  his  girl  would 
think  of  him  now.  It  is  not  in  me  to  be 
mean — but  somehow  it  is  natural  to  wish 
to  be  upon  par  with  your  neighbors,  and 
I  really  had  a  secret  satisfaction  in  know- 
ing that  there  was  not  a  mite  of  difference 
in  our  appearance.  At  the  first  stop,  we 
made  an  inspection  before  the  mirror,  and 
we  both  looked  like  Christmas  cakes  rolled 
in  flour. 

I  admired  the  driver.  There  were 
many  things  along  the  stage's  course  to 
attract — curious  birds,  graceful  squirrels, 
trailing  snakes,  wild-running  bear,  varying 
scenery,  changeful  sky,  shady  ravines, 


To  Alaska.  547 


cascading-  streams — but  I  could  not  get 
done  admiring  that  driver.  He  is  in  the 
closest  sympathy  with  nature,  through 
whose  life  his  path  of  duty  has  ledehim  these 
many  years.  He  knows  the  time  of  day  to 
the  minute,  by  simply  looking  at  the  sun* 
He  knows  the  habit  of  every  living  thing 
by  the  way.  Then  too,  he  is  such  a  good 
story-teller.  His  ruddy  color,  and  long 
grown  beard,  set  well  upon  his  honest 
face,  and  his  strong  frame  fit  into  his  seat, 
as  if  he  and  the  vehicle  were  chiseled  out 
of  a  solid  whole.  He  is  an  artist— he 
gathers  the  multitudinous  ribbons  between 
his  left-hand  fingers,  with  the  grace  of  a 
lace  weaver,  and  wields  the  whip  with  his 
right-hand,  in  such  a  majestic  sweep,  and 
treads  the  breaks  into  such  pleasing  creaks 
of  mountain  music,  that  you  can't  help  but 
bow  to  his  superiority.  It  is  altogether  to 
your  advantage  to  admire  him — it  is  a  part 
of  his  pay.  Even  a  cobbler  wants  you  to 
say — "it's  a  neat  job  "— •  and  why  not  say 
that  stage-driving  can  be  an  expert  thing. 
That  tourist  missed  it  with  "  Bishop,"  the 
veteran  Colorado-stageman,  The  im- 
patient traveller  would  remark  that  it  was 
slow  business,  and  poor  horsemanship, 
climbing  at  the  snail-like  pace  up  the 


§4§  Through    Wonderland 

heights — "  when  will  we  get  up,  driver  ?n 
Bishop  said  nothing— he  saved  the  endur- 
ance of  his  horses,  until  he  came  within 
Feach  of  the  top.  He  dismounted*  fixed 
the  breaks,  readjusted  the  reigns,  to  which 
the  traveller  added  the  new  complaint,  that 
{ '  less  breaks  might  help  us  to  get  down" 
hill  more  speedily."  The  drivef  was  in 
his  seat  again-^with  a  purpose  well  set  on 
his  stfong  face  ;  from  the  heights  now 
yawned  dangefous  declivities,  and  a  nar- 
row road  wound  around  them.  Crack  ! 
Went  the  whip,  up  started  the  mountain 
steeds,  and  headlong  dashed  the  stage  ; 
faster  and  faster  down  along  the  curves 
go  those  horses  under  the  snap  of  that 
whip,  and  the  stage  scarcely  escapes  the 
Verge  of  the  overhanging  ledges — "for 
God's  sake,  hold  up  driver,  we  are  going 

to  the ! ' '  and  the  penitent  tourist  just 

catches  a  hold  from  swinging-off  on  a  tan- 
gent, and  the  driver  gives  another  whack 
at  the  flanks  of  those  horses,  presses  with 
master  precision  on  the  breaks,  and  pulls 
the  reins  within  a  hair-breadth  of  the  next 
dizzy  curve.  The  traveller  leaps  wreck* 
lessly  overboard  for  his  life,  arid  Bishop, 
like  a  mad  Jehu,  dashes  on  down  the  hill, 
and  never  stops  'til  he  draws  up  his  pant- 


to  Alaska.  249 


ing  steeds  before  the  mountain-lodge.  '  'No 
passenger  to-day,  Bishop  ?  ' J  hails  the  host. 
*  *  Left  him  a  mile  behind— will  be  along 
soon, ' '  was  the  triumphant  answer.  Every 
man  to  his  business — even  a  stage  driver 
knows  his  business  best — it  is  not  well  to 
interfere, 

THE  BRIDAL  CHAMBER  OF  THE  KING. 

I  walk  now  as  in  a  dream  through  that 
valley, — I  feel  again  as  if  I  had  set  my 
feet  within  the  bridal-chamber  of  the  most 
holy  King.  When  I  halted  on  Inspiration 
Point  above,  and  looked  down,  I  saw 
beautiful  avenues  of  green,  and  the  river 
Merced,  clear  as  crystal,  flowing  between. 
Here  spread  out  grass-covered  meadows 
among  mountains  8000  to  10,000  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  sea.  All  around 
this  valley  of  1141  acres  rose  walls  as  if  to 
construct  the  rock-ribbed  temple  of  the 
Most  High.  Over  it  all  hung  a  haze,  as 
if  priests  walked  among  its  aisles  and  were 
swinging  the  censer  of  incense.  I,  too, 
-strolled  through  the  precincts  of  this  val- 
ley, and  I  almost  stepped  as  if  in  fear  of 
desecration.  You  imagined  the  Indian 
bathing  in  the  river,  and  stirring  his  acorn 
•meal  on  the  sylvan  glade.  You  entered 
the  Stoneman  House,  as  if  you  had 


250  Through  Wonderland 

alighted  in  a  world  where  the  Creator  him- 
self had  tarried  long  to  chisel  temples  of 
art,  never  to  be  inhabited  by  man. 

The  morning  is  a  surprise  to  you,  as  you 
view  your  surroundings  from  the  hotel 
veranda.  The  one  particular  feature  of 
the  narrow  valley  is  the  verticality  of  the 
walls  of  the  mountains,  and  their  great 
height.  The  geologist  will  stand  in  this 
scooped-out  ravine  of  the  Sierra  and  won-, 
der  what  kind  of  glaciers  they  must  have 
been,  that  ground  down,  rounded  out,  and 
polished  off,  these  mountain  sides — how 
many  ages  ago,  it  all  happened!  Up  there 
you  see  Cloud's  Rest,  and  the  fleecy  ne- 
bulae arise  from  its  peak,  as  if  awakened 
by  the  early  sun.  The  Royal  Arches  span 
2,000  feet,  as  if  greeting  Aurora  from  an- 
other direction.  The  North  Dome  has 
donned  the  German  military-hat,  ready 
or  duty,  and  the  Half  Dome  confronts  it 
in  personal  majesty.  This  latter  granite 
mountain  for  a  longtime  had  a  rope  dang- 
ling from  its  top,  one  mile  up  in  the  sky. 
A  Scotchman,  George  G.  Anderson,  by 
name,  at  the  risk  of  his  life,  and,  after  three 
months  of  persevering  effort,  all  alone,  fas- 
tened a  rope  over  its  smooth  back,  inclin- 
ing at  an  angle  of  43  degrees,  and  slanting 


to  Alaska.  251 


975  feet  in  length.  The  rope  is  frozen 
away,  and  no  one  since  has  dared  to  re- 
peat the  feat. 

Over  there  is  the  omnipresent  El  Capi- 
tan — the  monarch  of  vertical  mountains. 
Its  facade  impresses  one  with  awe  and 
majesty.  If  it  were  to  fall  forward,  it  would 
cover  1 60  acres  of  ground.  It  is  3,300 
feet  high,  and  it  would  take  30  Palac 
Hotels  to  reach  the  top.  This  way  are  the 
Cathedral  Spires,  2,579  *eet  mgh>  and  for 
700  feet  above,  standing  alone.  Beautiful 
Bridal  Veil  Falls  J  whose  lacy  waves  are 
lifted  wide  apart  by  the  wind,  900  feet  aloft. 
We  linger  over  its  rainbow,  that  the  sun 
paints  upon  its  crystal  folds  every  cloud- 
less evening.  Come  out  early  to  the 
dreamy  Mirror  Lake,  No  other  spot  on 
Dearth  holds  the  reflection  of  three  moun- 
tains— 4,200  feet,  5,000  feet,  6,000  feet 
high — a  little  lakelet. 

Return  from  your  trail  to  the  Vernal 
Falls  and  Nevada  Falls,  and  express  to  us 
your  feelings,  if  you  can.  Stand  before 
Yosemite  Falls,  precipitated  from  a  height 
•of  2,650  feet,  and  demonstrate  to  us  your 
admiration.  Climb  up  to  Glacier  Point, 
3,257  feet  altitude  and  describe  the  pano- 
ramic sweep  of  forty  miles.  You  call  for 


2 52  Through  Wonderland 

the  bard  and  ask  him  to  tune  his  lyre,  and 
as  he  sings,  you  note  his  words  in  a  ten-- 
aciotfs  memory— 


"Mid  massive  domes  of  the  Sierra's  column's', 

Where  power  supreme  to  the  eye  is  shown, 
Where  an  awe-inspiring  fastness  sofemns 

The  mind  with  force  of  the  great  Unknown, 
There  lies  a  gem— a  thought  of  beauty, 

Which  the  mountains  guard,  as  the  depths  the  s 
Where  peace  is  law  and  joy  is  daty-— 

Yosemite! 

Its  granite  walls  but  the  eagles  follow 

To  dizzying  heights  in  the  distant  sky, 
No  eye  can  see  from  their  crests  the  hollow^ 

Where  in  peace  the  beautiful  valleys  lie, 
No  foot  has  trod  its  sky-linked  turrets  ; 

The  heaven's  purple  enmantels  them, 
The  crystal  snows  atone  are  for  its 

Diadem, 

These  massive  walls  remain:  unheeding 

The  frosts  of  winter,  the  summer's  sun,, 
Alone  unmoved  by  every  pleading 

By  Nature  voiced,  since  Time  begun. 
The  winds,  the  storm,  the  rage  volcanic,, 

In  vain  to  move  their  structure  yearns  ;' 
Jove's  lance  with  seething  hate  satauic 

Futile  burns. 

The  golden  rays  of  sunlight,  turning' 

The  icy  bolts  of  the  vaults  of  snow, 
Shone  in,  and,  'neath  their  kisses  burning,, 

The  gems  were  wooed  to  a  crystal  flow,- 
"  River  of  Mercy  "  for  all  things  near  it, 

Dispensing  life  with  its  song  of  glee, 
White  as  a  virgin's  unsoiled  spirit, 

lyight  and  free. 


to  Alaska.  253 


Swifter  than  winds  or  the  flight  of  swallow, 

The  milk  white  wares  of  this  river  foam 
On  toward  the  granite-guarded  hollow, 

Where  bloom  and  joy  find  a  welcome  home  ; 
With  plunge  and  shout,  like  distant  thunder, 

It  leaps  from  the  brow  of  that  mountain  wall. 
It  spins  and  weaves  and  bursts  asunder 

In  its  fall. 

White  rockets  flash  from  the  column's  cover, 

Their  courses  marked  by  a  silver  mist ; 
Caught  by  the  winds  the  spray-wreaths  hover, 

In  folds  of  light  by  the  sunbeams  kissed  ; 
Veiling  the  river's  lips  which  thunder, 

With  sprays  bejeweled  and  clouds  high  rolled 
Beauty  most  rare  I    Magical  wonder, 

Shot  with  gold  I 

Vision  divine,  unmoved  and  nameless, 

Thy  wonders  remain  why  ages  fret ; 
Thy  power  unfettered  and  even  tameless, 

Thy  Bows  of  Promise  forever  set ; 
Now  by  the  gold  of  the  sunlight  painted, 

Now  by  the  rays  of  the  Night's  pale  bride; 
Matchless  work  of  all  things  created — 

Deified ! 

Throne  of  the  continent  J    Queen  of  all  splendor  1 

Creation  supernal  I    Work  wholly  divine  ! 
When    touched  by  thy  presence   the  cold  heart  grows 
tender, 

And  reels  with  a  joy  as  though  drunken  with  wine. 
Transcendent  valley  with  sky-woven  ceiling, 

Rivers  that  murmur,  white-lipped  falls  that  roar, 
Records  divine,  His  wonders  revealing 

More  and  more, 

—Kyle. 


IN  THE  MARIPOSA  GROVE. 
XXX. 

Since  I  have  visited  the  Vosemite,  I 
have  stood  among  the  trees  of  our  eastern 
groves.  I  have  ceased  to  wonder  at  our 
monarchs  of  the  forest,  for  I  have  stood 
under  the  Sequoia  giants  of  California.  A 
visit  to  this  wonder-grove  belongs  to  the 
excursion  into  Yosemite  Valley,  but  it  leads 
at  least  twenty-six  miles  another  way. 
The  big  trees  were  first  discovered  in  the 
Spring-of  1852,  when  a  hunter  brought  the 
news  into  camp.  His  companions  would 
not  believe  his  storyr  and  so  by  resorting 
to  the  trick  of  having  seen  two  enormous 
bear,  he  led  the  eager  hunters  into  the 
Calaveras,  and  surprised  them  with  the  un- 
expected game— the  big  trees.  Then  they 
were  made  famous  by  extended  notices  in 
American  and  English  papers.  Eminent 
botanists  at  once  sought  to  place  this  new 
species,  and  by  the  rules  of  botanical 
nomenclature  they  were  called  Sequoia  Gi- 
ganta.  It  may  be  remembered  that  Se- 
quoia was  the  name  of  the  Cherokee  In- 


to  Alaska.  255 


dian,  who,  early  in  this  century,  invented 
an  alphabet  and  written  language  for  his 
tribe. 

They  are  peculiar  in  their  habits,  for 
these  trees  belong  exclusively  to  California, 
never  grow  over  seven  thousand  feet  above 
sea-level,  and  form  groves,  intermixed 
with  other  trees.  The  Mariposa  Grove  is 
a  grant,  under  the  charge  of  the  Yosemite 
Commissioners,  and  covers  four  sections, 
or  two  miles  square.  Perhaps  the  highest 
trees  in  the  world  are  the  Australian  species 
— the  Eucalyptus  Amygdalina,  many  of 
which  reach  to  the  height  of  four  hundred 
feet..  The  tallest  Sequoia  is  three  hun- 
dred and  twenty-five  feet — but  that  would 
be  twice  the  size  of  any  church-steeple  in 
my  native  city.  One  of  these  trees,  twenty- 
four  feet  in  diameter,  was  by  hard  labor 
cut  down,  and  the  base  of  it  was  smoothed 
into  an  ample  dancing  floor. 

Do  not  imagine  a  dense  hemlock  forest, 
when  you  come  among  these  trees,  in 
which  you  grope  among  sombre  shadows, 
and  listen  to  weird  sounds  of  lowering 
branches,  as  in  the  woods  of  home.  Sun- 
light plays  among  their  trunks,  for  these 
giants  must  have  elbow  room.  The  pines 
and  firs  stand  guard  at  a  distance — but 


256  Through  'Wonderland 

though  mighty,  they  seem  like  dwarfs, 
when  approaching  near  to  odious  com- 
parison. 

You  must  not  let  your  expectations  an- 
ticipate your  discovery — these  trees,  like 
the  Niagara  Falls,  grow  on  you  by  slow 
acquaintance.  It  is  really  laughable,  when 
you  get  your  ball  of  twine  out,  and  begin 
to  unravel  it  for  a  measurement  around  the 
girth  of  ( '  Grizzly  Giant. "  It  is  like  walk- 
ing about  a  good-sized  house,  fully  one 
hundred  feet.  How  mighty  these  rough 
ribbed  cinnamon-colored  trunks  \  You 
tarry,  and  the  true  majesty  and  grandeur 
of  their  wasted  and  gnarled  and  wrinkled 
sides  loom  upon>  your  understanding. 
How  old  !  You  count  3^,000  and  4,000* 
years  along  the  line  of  history,  and  you 
discover  that  they  were  babes  in  the  cradle, 
when  the  Goths  an3  Vandals  waged  sav- 
age wars  in  Europe.  They  were  old  men 
already  when  Columbus  landed  on  these 
shores.  They  might  tell  the  story  of  the 
Revolution,  as  an  episode  thousands  of 
years  after  they  were  born-.  Alas  !  How- 
many  unknown  races  of  Indians  built  their 
fires  under  their  shelter  1  Some  say,  a 
mountain  is  stone — a  tree  is  wood.  Poor 
souls  !  who  have  no  sentiment.  I  would 


To  Alaska,  257 


think,  before  ever  I  would  lay  an  axe  to 
the  trunk  of  a  tree.  These  are  not  the 
' '  speaking-  oaks  of  Dodona ' '  to  give 
oracles  to  priests — but  I  reverence  the  Se- 
quoia giant.  His  hoary  head  does  seem 
to  indicate  stored-up  knowledge,  .and  I  re- 
spect ancient  history,  even  if  it  be  hid  in 
silence,  within  the  bark  of  an  old  tree. 


ALASKA— IN  RETROSPECT. 
XXXI. 

READING,  DEC.  — ,  1895. 
Euphonious  name- — Alaska  !  Should 
the  traveller  have  become  old,  when  the 
mental  faculties  oft-times  become  feeble, 
next  to  his  childhood  days,  he  would  re- 
member the  pleasures  of  his  Alaska-trip. 
Books  are  good  enough  to  read,  even  books 
of  travel — but  you  never  can  form  pictures 
of  things  and  places  described  in  them,  as 
the  eyes  paint  them  upon  heart  and  mem- 
ory. Now,  I  do  not  need  the  panoramic 
canvass  to  unroll  before  me  those  scenes, 
they  come  and  go  as  quick  as  thought 
flies,  and  the  color,  music,  and  life  all  cling 
to  them  as  nature  gave  them.  O,  memory, 
thou  art  a  jewel!  Some  men  have  riches 
to  their  old-age,  and  some  the  retrospect 
of  a.  mis- spent  life — but  the  traveller,  in 
dreams  and  in  waking  state,  revels  amid 
the  pleasant  recollections  of  a  life  spent 
among  the  wonders  of  man's  work,  and 
the  creations  of  God's  genius  on  earth. 


To  Alaska.  259 


The  natives  styled  their  land — "  Al-ay- 
ek-sa,"  meaning,  '  *  great  country. ' '  It  is 
a  great  country,  covering  nearly  all  the 
States  east  of  the  Mississippi.  It  was  first 
dicovered  by  Vitus  Behring,  in  1741,  and 
afterwards  by  Captain  Cook,  who  sailed  up 
as  far  as  Sitka,  in  1776.  The  complica- 
tions of  war-rumors  induced  Russia  to  part 
with  it,  and  it  seemed  a  doubtful  invest- 
ment when  Secretary  Seward  closed  the 
bargain  with  Prince  MaksutofT,  on  October 
18,  1867,  and  gave  to  the  Russian-Ameri- 
can Company  $7,200,000  for  the  nearly 
600,000  square  miles  of  land.  It  cost  at 
the  rate  of  2  cents  an  acre ;  it  very  soon 
had  paid  for  itself,  and  promises  to  enrich 
our  Government  by  untold  resources. 
Think  of  it — the  centre  of  United  States 
possessions  lies  800  miles  out  in  the  Pacific 
Ocean. 

The  primitive  race  inhabiting  this  vast 
empire  have  a  history  lost  in  the  shadows 
of  antiquity.  Like  the  morning  sea- 
mists,  so  are  their  oral  traditions.  But 
they  have  not  entirely  relinquished  the 
habits  and  customs  of  their  barbarous 
ancestors  Their  canoes  are  pictures  of 
grace,  when  gliding  over  the  waters — their 
model  is  of  the  earliest  design.  They  go  to 


Through  Wonderland 


the  hunt  and  to  war  with  the  same  weapons 
as  of  old — they  eat  and  live  like  their  crude 
progenitors.  They  have  the  same  aristo- 
cratic notions  and  the  same  burial  customs 
as  their  fathers  had.  The  native  tribes  have 
similarities  and  contrasts  in  their  physical 
condition.  The  coast-people  have  an  Asia- 
tic cast  of  features,  and  seem  to  have  come 
from  Japanese  stock.  The  Eskimos  are 
similar  to  the  Eskimos  of  Labrador.  All  the 
natives  of  Alaska  have  massive  heads,  but 
delicately  formed  hands  and  feet.  Their 
complexion  is  a  nut-brown,  and  they  have 
high  cheek  bones,  dark  eyes,  and  straight 
black  hair.  They  are  mostly  fish-eaters, 
though  inland,  the  native  also  lives  on  game 
and  land  products* 

IN  A  MISSIONARY'S  HOME. 
The  Goonennar  Indians  are  a  sample  of 
crude  life — they  live  along. the  borders  of 
the  Yukon.  They  are  a  strangely  cold 
natured  people.  A  friend  enters  their  vil- 
lage after  months,  and  is  not  greeted  any- 
where. He  walks  stolidly  ahead,  then 
removes  pack  and  arms,  squats  down  to 
the  fire,  and  his  host  acknowledges  his 
presence  by  a  pot  of  fish— and  he  breaks 
silence.  The  conversation  deals  of  the 
hunt,  and  never  a  sickness  or  death  is  re- 


Td  Aldskd.  26  i 


ferred  to,  for  the  Indian  has  more  interest 
in  the  price  of  a  bear  or  fox-skin  than  irt 
the  death  of  his  mother; 

The  gastronomic  taste  of  these  people" 
is  something  marvellous.  The  canoe  will 
shoot  out  on  a  fishing  expedition.  The 
fations  are  a  secondary  matter.  When 
hungry,  the  Indian  will  harpoon  a  salmon^ 
bite  off  a  mouthful  from  jilst  above  the 
nose,  and  fling  it  back  to  the  water.  The 
fish  swims  on  as  if  wanting  nothing  of  his 
anatomy— ^swims  as  complacently,  as  the 
morsel  in  the  gastfonomic  depository  of 
the  Indian.  If  you  wefe  to  land  on  some 
focky  island  where  the  sea-gulls  lay  their 
eggs,  you  might  be  choicy  in  selecting  the 
good  out  of  the  bad  for  your  use.  But  the 
old  Indian  would  resent  your  fastidiousness 
and  strike  good  and  bad  into  the  same  pan 
to  mix  an  omelet  to  his  liking.  Fish-heads 
made  odorous  by  several  weeks  exposure 
in  a  wooden-trough,  are  only  pfoperly  ma- 
tured, and  declared  fit  to  eat.  After  all 
it  is  only  a  matter  of  taste,  and  cultured 
taste  often  is  no  betted  than  barbarous 
taste.  I  doubt  if  the  Indian  would  fancy 
our  way  of  transforming  sweet  pure  milk, 
into  a  frozen  lump  of  live  worms  and  odor- 
ous smear,  labeled  Rocquefort  or  Zweit* 


262  Through  Wonderland 

Jzer  cheese.  We  don't  like  antiquated 
fish-heads,  but  we  do  relish  antiquated 
cheese.  They  roast  their  meat  in  big  long 
strips,  and  stuff  as  much  of  it  into  the 
mouth)  as  inflation  admits,  and  cut  off  each 
bite  close  to  the  lips  with  their  knives. 
They  hardly  would  have  use  for  a  table 
d'hote  equipment,  where  five  pair  of 
knives  and  forks,  and  as  many  spoons,  are 
called  into  requisition — it  demonstrates, 
after  all,  how  many  things  we  need  which 
we  don't  need. 

However  low  down  in  the  grade  of 
civilization,  there  is  a  religious  pos- 
sibility for  these  people.  Rev.  Dr.  Shel- 
don Jackson,  General  Agent  of  Education 
for  Alaska,  reports  that  there  is  a  school 
population  of  over  8,000.  There  are  1,934 
of  this  number  enrolled  in  the  31  schools. 
The  contract  schools  are  supported  con- 
jointly by  the  Government  giving  $20,000 
and  the  missionary  societies  giving  nearly 
$70,000.  The  latter  include  the  Presby- 
terian, Moravian,  Episcopal,  Methodist, 
Congregational,  Lutheran,  and  Roman 
Catholic  churches.  A  visit  to  the  Presby- 
terian Industrial  School  of  Sitka  demon- 
strates the  transforming  power  .of  religion 
over  the  soul  of  a  human  being.  Along 


to  Alaska.  263 


with  the  Word,  the  Indian  boys  are  here 
taught  shoemaking,  house-building,  furni- 
ture-making, coopering,  baking,  garden- 
ing, and  the  care  of  cattle  ;  the  girls  are 
taught  cooking,  baking,  washing,  ironing, 
sewing,  dressmaking  and  housekeeping. 
*How  nicely  housed,  clothed  and  fed  they 
are  !  Here  are  children  brought  from 
their  wild  homes,  many  miles  away — and 
they  frequently  talk  of  their  parents  in  a 
home-sick  way  ;  they  look  out  of  these 
scenes  of  comfort,  and  pine  at  times,  for 
the  bare  earthen-floor  of  the  Siwash-home, 
and  for  the  sports  in  the  woods  and  on  the 
waters,  that  made  them  the  children  of 
liberty. 

Mr.  William  Duncan  is  the  Missionary 
apostle  of  Alaska.  When  our  boat  arrived 
at  New  Metlakahtla,  I  was  most  eager  to 
see  this  veteran,  who  spent  a  life-time 
among  these  aborigines  to  raise  them  to 
Christian  manhood.  Behold  !  out  of  this 
wild  spot,  a  town  of  800  Indian  souls  has 
grown.  Everything  is  native  handiwork, 
and  the  Indians  are  the  council  and  police 
of  the  town.  A  church  is  in  the  centre  of 
the  place,  of  no  mean  embellishment,  and 
can  seat  1,000  persons.  The  schools  and 
dwelling  houses,  are  neat,  and  though  the 


§64  Through    Wohderhnd 

streets  here  and  there  are  not  cleaned  of 
the  brush^wood,  there  are  some  macada- 
mized  sidewalks.  The  women  weave  cloth 
for  garments,  and  the  men  work  in  the  saw 
and  planing-mill,  and  the  salmon  cannery, 
which  puts  out  6,000  cases  offish  in  a  sea* 
son.  They  are  an  imitative  people,  and 
as  compared  with  the  North  American  In* 
dians,  they  come  to  civilization  and  do  not 
recede  from  it. 

Dr.  Duncan  lives  alone  in  his  rudely 
furnished  house^a  consecrated  souL  What 
a  study  is  this  man,  and  his  surroundings! 
This  is  his  interesting  story;  I  came  to 
these  shores  forty  years  ago.  I  began  to 
learn  the  Indian  tongue.  One  day,  there 
was  a  rap  at  my  door.  An  Indian  chief 
Centered  to  my  call,  he  sat  down  and  very 
soon  broke  the  silence  with  the  question^ 
*  *  have  you  a  letter  from  the  Great 
Spirit  ?"  I  answered  him— "yes!"  I 
Opened  the  Bible,  and  told  him,  "as  soon 
as  I  have  learned  your  tongue,  I  will  come 
to  tell  you  of  the  love  of  His  Son,  who 
came  down  here  to  save  you." 

Sometime  later,  I  took  my  boat,  and 
Sailed  down  the  waters*  The  eagle-eye  of 
the  Indian  saw  away  off  the  gliding  vehicle^ 
and  he  shouted— "white  man  in  boat — • 


to  Alaska.  265 


the  prophet  has  come."  There  was  joy 
and  great  preparation  on  shore.  The 
houses  were  put  in  order,  the  women  and 
children  adorned  themselves,  the  flag  was 
hoisted,  and  the  signal  given.  I  landed, 
entered  the  house  of  public  gathering,  and 
sat  by  the  door  as  the  seat  of  honor.  Soon 
the  curtain  to  aside  rustled.  The  Bear 
came  out  on  all  fours,  raised  himself  in  the 
centre  of  the  room,  looked  up  the  chim- 
ney, and  intoned — "the  heavens  have 
changed!"  Next  came  out  the  Deer, 
looked  up  the  chimney,  and  said — "the 
heavens  have  changed  !' '  Then  came  out 
the  Chief,  and  looking  up,  he  emphasized 
"the  heavens  indeed  have  changed!" 
My  story  of  the  Cross  was  listened  to,  and 
many  accepted  the  new  order  of  things. 

So  it  follows  that  the  good  news  of  the 
missionary  are  spread.  The  tribes  visit 
each  other.  Their  canoes  are  tied  to  shore 
overnight,  and  around  the  evening  fire  they 
talk.  The  conversation  is  not  of  the  chief, 
how  many  slaves  he  has  buried  under  the 
tent  door,  how  many  deer  captured  in  the 
hunt — but  of  Jesus  Christ,  this  new  story 
of  how  the  Great  Spirit's  boy  came  down 
to  save.  From  what  a  depth  these  peo- 
ple need  to  be  delivered !  The  chief  fears 


266  Through  Wonderland 

death,  and  he  kills  some  slaves  to  go  ahead 
to  prepare  the  journey.  When  parents 
get  too  old,  the  children  kill  them  to 
get  them  out  of  the  way.  The  girl 
is  not  of  as  much  value  as  the  boy. 
The  mother  often  ties  the  little  one  to  a 
sapling  by  the  shore  to  drown  it  when  the 
tide  comes  in.  A  boy  and  girl  are  fre- 
quently adopted  in  a  home.  When  the 
wife  dies,  the  husband  marries  the  girl; 
when  the  husband  dies,  the  wife  marries 
the  boy. 

OTHER    MEMORIES    OF   THE    TRIP. 

Fort  Wrangle  is  a  melancholy  outpost. 
But  here  we  met  for  the  first  time  the  To- 
tem-pole, that  gorgeous  insignia  of  Alas- 
kan nobility.  Each  family  assumes  some 
bird  or  animal  as  its  emblem — the  raven, 
eagle,  wolf,  bear  or  whale.  These  badges 
bind  the  tribes  together.  Members  of  the 
same  badge  do  not  marry,  though  of  dif- 
ferent tribes.  They  marry  with  different 
badges,  though  of  the  same  tribe.  A  son 
takes  his  mother's  ensign  until  he  marries, 
when  he  assumes  that  of  his  wife's  family. 
So  the  "wolf"  marries  the  "whale."  On 
the  wife's  pole  only  the  genealogy  is  en- 
graved. In  a  feud  between  families,  the 
man  must  always  range  himself  on  his 


lo  Alaska*  267 


wife's  side.  The  raising  of  such  a  genea- 
logical tree  is  a  dear  luxury,  and  it  must 
be  of  a  height  not  above  the  standing  of 
the  owner.  A  pot-latch  is  a  series  of 
feasts  for  the  occasion,  lasting  often  several 
days,  and  the  whole  tribe  is  invited.  To 
the  delicacies  is  added  an  intoxicating 
compound  distilled  from  molasses  and  wa- 
ter, prepared  by  kerosene  lamp  and  hol- 
low sea-weed.  The  ceremonials  satisfy 
the  pride,  but  after  the  payment  of  $1,000 
to  $3,000,  he  looks  upon  his  one-hundred 
foot  escutcheon  in  abject  poverty.  The 
Shaman  is  the  medicine  man.  His  pole  is 
aristocratic,  and  his  income,  for  his  weird 
incantations  over  the  sick,  the  largest. 
When  he  appears  to  drive  out  the  evil 
spirit  from  the  sick  he  is  dressed  in  beaded 
buckskins,  liberally  fringed  with  charms 
over  his  rich  blanket,  and  a  wooden  rattle 
in  his  hand.  Before  a  blazing  fire  he  goes 
through  his  incantations,  and  his  song 
rises  in  power,  like  the  cawing  of  the  sa- 
cred raven,  and  his  actions  are  dramatic 
and  distressing;  and  the  beating  of  the 
drum  and  voices  of  his  audience  drive  the 
scene  to  an  exhausting  climax — where  he 
motions  the  evil  spirit  through  the  aperture 


268  Through  Wonderland 

of  the  roof.    The  chorus  dies  away  in  song 
like  this: — 

Anu  joo  chay  na  tay  na  koo  na  hee; 
Ah  ah  ah,  yeah;  yeah  ah  ah  ah. 

Interpreted  it  means,  I  have  looked  the 
village  through  and  found  none  practicing 
witchcraft.  He  falls  to  the  earth  groan- 
ing. He  is  all  potent — all  life  is  in  his 
hand. 

The  greatest  scenic  spectacle  of  the  Alas- 
ka trip  is  the  Muir-Glacier.  I  shall  never 
see  its  equal  again  in  search  of  natural 
wonders.  The  sail  through  the  ice-bay, 
30  miles  long  and  8  to  12  miles  wide,  is 
full  of  anticipation.  But  who  can  describe 
all  of  the  sensations  when  anchoring  a  mile 
away  from  the  verital  ice-mountain  itself. 
Why,  it  would  take  1,000  Mere  de  Glase 
to  make  one  Muir  Glacier.  It  has  nine 
main  streams  of  frozen  ice  to  feed  it,  and 
these  have  seventeen  sub-branches,  with 
twenty-six  tributaries,  to  crowd  into  one 
solid  mass  two  miles  wide.  There  are  four 
sub-glacial  streams,  and  five  moraines 
above,  and  a  buried  forest  to  its  side.  Of 
its  imposing  grandeur  and  exciting  action 
I  have  already  written  —  but  m eagerly 
done,  if  done  at  its  best. 


70  Alaska.  269 


An  iceberg  struck  my  poetic  fancy, 
which  floated  like  a  dream  by  our  depart- 
ing boat.  In  its  delicate  beauty  and  gro- 
tesque form,  it  awakened  the  fanciful  and 
drew  me  near  to  it.  But  I  remembered 
that  great  dangers  are  often  clad  in  gor- 
geous dress.  It  so  happened  that  the 
schooner  Elwood  was  recently  lured  to  the 
brink  of  a  watery  grave  up  here  by  the 
peaceful  innocence  of  an  iceberg.  Captain 
Chester  desired  to  take  ice  on  board  from 
Muir  Glacier,  but  on  his  way  he  espied  a 
berg  ten  times  the  size  of  his  boat,  and  he 
conceived  the  idea  of  anchoring  by  its  side 
and  chopping  off  a  load.  He  did  so — be 
swung  around  and  fastened  his  lines  to  the 
monster.  The  tide  was  at  its  full  at  the 
time,  and  all  was  safe.  One  chunk  after 
another  was  hoisted  over  the  gang-plank. 
Toward  evening,  however,  the  tide  had 
been  falling,  and  the  iceberg  rested  heavily 
upon  the  reef  beneath,  and  it  gradually 
tipped  over  to  the  other  side.  The  berg 
continued  to  careen,  and  very  soon,  with 
a  grinding  roar,  it  rolled  off  the  reef  and 
started  to  revolve.  In  an  instant  the  berg 
shot  up  a  jagged  spur  from  beneath  and 
lifted  the  whole  vessel  out  of  the  water  and 
set  it  on  high.  Panic-stricken,  they  got 


270  Through  Wonderland 

out  of  harm's  way  in  the  lifeboat.  There 
the  ship  lingered,  poised  aloft,  groaning 
in  its  anchor  and  chains.  Something  must 
happen — something  must  give  way  !  The 
tide  fell  more  and  the  schooner  rose  higher. 
Crash  !  The  vessel  moved  in  the  icy 
crevice.  Crash  !  and  the  schooner  took  a 
forward  lurch,  dashed  down  grade  and 
plunged  into  the  sea  like  a  rocket.  She 
shipped  a  heavy  sea,  but  stumbling  and 
tugging  viciously  amid  entangling  ropes 
and  chains  and  anchor,  the  ship  came  right 
side  up  and  she  just  escaped  as  by  a  mira- 
cle— she  was  safe. 

I  lingered  around  the  ruins  of  Baranoff 
Castle,  at  Sitka.  It  once  was  the  home 
of  royal  splendor,  and  by  its  isolation, 
enjoyed  the  diversions  of  courtly  revelry. 
A  romance  so  sad — attracted  me,  more 
than  the  memory  of  its  buried  splendors. 
It  concerned  the  beautiful  niece  of  Baron 
Romanoff.  She  had  been  brought  from 
Russia  to  separate  her  from  her  lover  oi  in- 
ferior birth,  and  was  to  be  forced  into  a  mar- 
riage with  a  nobleman  whom  she  thoroughly 
disliked.  When  the  wedding  festivities 
were  on,  the  bride  was  missed.  They 
looked  here  and  there,  and  in  the  deserted 
banquet  hall  the  unhappy  girl  was  found, 


to  Alaska.  271 


with  a  dagger  thrust  through  her  heart. 
How  came  the  deed  to  be  done  ?  Was  it 
the  jealous  bridegroom  ?  Did  her  lover 
sail  over  the  waters,  and  in  the  nick  of 
time  snatch  his  own  from  the  grasp  of  the 
hated  rival  ?  Did  she  hold  the  pointed 
blade  herself  to  her  agitated  bosom  ?  She 
was  dead — the  wedding  was  over.  Since 
then,  the  legend  has  it,  that  the  witching 
hour  of  midnight  hears  the  swish  of  her 
ghostly  bridal  gown,  and  inhales  the  linger- 
ing perfume  of  orange-blossoms  as  she 
moves  with  spirit-step  from  room  to  room. 


XXXII. 

MY  COUNTRY— IN   RETROSPECT. 


My  Country  'tis  of  thee, 
Sweet  land  of  liberty, 

Of  thee  I  sing; 

Land  where  our  fathers  died, 
Land  of  the  pilgrim's  pride, 
From  every  mountain  side 

Let  Freedom  ring. 

My  native  country,  thee, 
Land  of  the  noble  free— 

Thy  name  I  love; 
I  love  thy  rocks  and  rills, 
Thy  woods  and  templed  hills; 
My  heart  with  rapture  thrills 

Like  that  above. 

Let  music  swell  the  breeze, 
And  ring  from  all  the  trees, 

Sweet  freedom's  song; 
Let  mortal  tongues  awake, 
Let  all  that  breathe  partake, 
Let  rocks  their  silence  break, 

The  sound  prolong. 

Our  father's  God  to  thee, 
Author  of  Liberty, 

To  thee  I  sing; 
Long  may  our  land  be  bright 
With  freedom's  holy  light; 
Protect  us  by  thy  might, 

Great  God,  our  King. 


